Lester Harold

Perryman

My dad, Lester Harold “Hal” Perryman, passed away on Saturday, September 26, 2026, in Roseville, California. It is difficult to put into words what it means to lose my dad. There are the big things I will remember, but it is often the little things that come to mind first—the sound of his laugh, his smile, his sense of humor, the things he loved, and the simple routines that made him who he was.

Hal was born in 1951 in Colton, California, to Lester and Adella Perryman. He was the youngest of three children and is survived by his older sisters, Neita and Caroline.

For much of his life, Hal was a single father. He worked hard to provide for me while building a life for us together. He spent most of his career in retail, forming lasting relationships during his years at KMart and OSH. He had a way of connecting with people, and the friendships he made through work stayed with him for years. After suffering a stroke in 2010, he retired.

Hal was a man who could find something to enjoy almost anywhere. He loved gardening, cars, building things, bartending, and collecting antiques and curiosities. He loved having things around him that had a story or made him curious. He was a tinkerer, a collector, and someone who was always willing to figure out how something worked—or how to fix it.

He also had a great sense of humor. He could make people laugh, often with a perfectly timed comment or a grin that said more than words could; I think this sentence will speak to more people than anything else. He had a warm smile, and he was the kind of person who was willing to lend a hand when someone needed it.

For more than 40 years, Hal’s home on Regard Way was his place in the world. He took tremendous pride in that house and in his neighborhood. He was a good neighbor in the truest sense—always willing to help, lend a tool, fix something, offer advice, or simply be there. That home held decades of memories, and so much of the life he built.

Some of the memories I will carry with me are wonderfully ordinary. I’ll remember his favorite treats—Necco Wafers and divinity fudge—and the little things that made my Dad, my Dad.

Hal is survived by me, his son, Eric; my wife, Larisa; and his grandchildren, Porter, Annabeth, and Cooper. Being a grandfather gave him another chapter of family to love, and I am grateful that my children will grow up knowing the stories, quirks, and memories that made their Grandpa Hal who he was.

Losing my dad means losing the one of the people who has been part of my entire story to date. He wasn't perfect, and neither was life, but he was my dad. He raised me, worked hard for me, made me laugh, taught that anything I decide to spend my time doing is worth doing right, and gave me a lifetime of memories that I will carry with me. As I give away his things I yearn for something physical to keep a part of him with me, knowing in reality those memories are all I get to keep.

I will miss his smile. I will miss his humor. I will miss his stories and seeing the things he collected and cared about. I will mis the view of him with his grandkids. Most of all, I will miss simply knowing he was there. We mourn his loss deeply, but we are also grateful for his life—for the people he loved, the friendships he made, the home he built, and the lasting impression he left on those who knew him.

Dad, thank you for everything. I love you, and I will miss you.