Glen was one of a kind. A hard worker, a caretaker, a brutally honest friend, a loving Dad and Grandpa, and, quite honestly, a hell of a character.

Glen had a way of making himself part of everyone’s life. He was a friend to everyone—even if he had to put you in your place first. And if you didn’t particularly appreciate it at the time, you probably did later. Glen usually had a way of being right.

He was famous for his T-shirts, his one-liners, and his uncanny ability to keep everyone busy. If something needed to be fixed, handled, moved, built, figured out, or just plain done, Glen was probably already on it. He was a workhorse who somehow managed to take care of everyone and everything around him.

He would help anybody. Of course, there was usually some complaining involved. But that was Glen. You got the help, you got the opinion, and you got it exactly as he saw it—no sugarcoating required.

Glen lived a good, simple life. He loved his family, his friends, and the people who became family along the way. He was the kind of person you could count on, the kind of friend who would show up, and the kind of guy who would tell you the truth whether you wanted to hear it or not.

Glen’s brief battle with cancer may have slowed him down, but it didn’t change who he was. Hospice helped make his final days peaceful and comfortable, and in Glen’s honor, donations to hospice would be a wonderful way to remember him. Helping another family the way hospice helped Glen is exactly the kind of thing he would have wanted.

There will be a lot of sadness because Glen’s loss is going to hurt. But there will also be a hell of a lot of laughing. He left behind a lifetime of stories, ridiculous moments, T-shirts, one-liners, hard work, questionable advice, and memories that will keep people laughing for years.

So, tell the stories.

Tell the ridiculous ones. Tell the embarrassing ones. Tell the ones Glen would absolutely deny ever happened. Laugh about the T-shirts. Repeat the one-liners. Talk about the things he fixed, the people he helped, the work he got done, and all the times he told somebody exactly what they needed to hear—even when they really, really didn’t want to hear it.

Keep Glen’s sense of humor alive. Keep helping people. Keep showing up. Keep getting things done. And when life starts getting too serious, do what Glen would have done:

Quit messing around and get on with it.

We’ll miss the hell out of you, Glen.

Dad. Grandpa. Friend. Caretaker. Hard worker. Pain in the butt. And one hell of a guy.