Henry Charles (Hill) Bradford, 81, left this life of suffering on 11/14/2020 to be with GOD. Henry was born on 9/11/1939, in Shreveport, Louisiana. He was the son of the late Carrie Hill Key and Ray Bradford. He had three brothers and one sister. He attended Booker T. Washington High School and after graduation, he headed for Houston, Texas. He worked at a hotel as a dishwasher, where he met JoAnn Scott. He was a truck driver for Kroger for many years and later worked for a traveling circus that he retired from due to health conditions.
Lovely wives:
Henry had 12 children. Henry and Revoyda Woodard had seven children. Henry and JoAnn Scott had five children.
He is survived by nine children: Regina Rawnsley (Graham) of Maryland, Pamela Bradford of Louisiana, Sandra White of Washington, Cheryl Bradford (Jesse) of Mississippi, Henry “Hank" Bradford of Louisiana, Marvin “Brad” (Sabrina) Bradford, Christopher Woodard of California, Karye “Kay” Bradford, and Tonia Large of Washington. He had 27 grandchildren, 17 great-grandchildren and a host of other relatives and friends (Special friend, Sabrina).
He was preceded in death by his mother Carrie Hill Key, father, Ray Bradford, maternal grandparents, two brothers, three sons Tommy Bradford, Kenneth “Kenny” Bradford and Gregory “Greg” Bradford, grandson Jimmy Lewis, Jr, and a great-grandson DeShaun Bradford.
He leaves to mourn nine children, 27 grandchildren, 17 great-grandchildren, a brother and sister MaryAnn (husband) of Louisiana and a host of other relatives and friends.
He accepted Christ later in life, he was greatly loved and passionated about baseball, side note: his dream was to play in the Major League Baseball (MLB)…the Angels in the outfield has caught a grand slam to take back to Heaven. He will be dearly missed. May you rest in peace until we see you again!
Keep Your Fork
A woman was diagnosed with a terminal illness and given three months to live. She asked her pastor to come to her home to discuss her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at her funeral, and what scriptures to read, and which outfit she wanted to be buried in.
Then she said, “One more thing. I want to be buried with a fork in my hand.”
The pastor was surprised. The woman explained, “in all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, ‘Keep your fork.’ It was my favorite time, because I knew something better was coming, like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie - something wonderful. So, I want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and wonder, “What’s with the fork?” Then, I want you to tell them, ‘Keep your fork, because the best is yet to come.”
The pastor’s eyes welled up with tears of joy as he bid the woman goodbye. He realized that she had a better grasp of heaven than he did, and knew something better was coming.
At the funeral, when people asked him why she was holding a fork, the pastor told them of the conversation he’d had with the woman before she died. He said he could not stop thinking about the fork, and knew they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it, either. He was Right.
Daddy,
Keep your fork. The best is yet to come.
Author Unknown
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