March 12th

Today would have been his 91st birthday, so, if you don’t mind, I would like to tell you a little bit about my grandfather.

He was my guy. I couldn’t even type those words without holding back some tears, but my grandpa was a giant of a man — and I grew up idolizing him. I miss the little things, though.

The slice of Cracker Barrel cheese melted onto a piece of toast. The drawer full of the same instant Sanka packets that I see (and smile at) every day at work. The lazy Saturday afternoons spent listening to Ray Charles and my grandfather sing “Georgia on My Mind” together.

Walter Clowney had many close friends and a ridiculously large family who adored him to no end… but, most importantly, he had a love in his life who had no equal. Gloria was a woman who set an impossible bar for all others.

And they fought. ALL the time…

They fought all. the. fucking. time.

And they never stopped loving each other.

I couldn’t tell you about Walter without mentioning Gloria.

That, to me, is the real meaning of love.

I’m not religious, and I don’t necessarily believe in Heaven (or, at least, not our idea of a possible afterlife). But, if there is something out there, I already know that they are together. Still fussing. Still fighting.

Still loving.

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