Wally, you were the man.

Wally, you were the BMOC. Everyone knew who you were. Seriously. They all showed up to say goodbye.

You were Santa, not only when you were dressed up in the suit but also when out of it. Santa crossed with Sean Connery, because you were devistatingly handsome and knew it. Even in the hospital you managed to charm every single nurse on the floor.

You liked to hold my hand and call me 'pumpkin'.

Spending time with you in the hardware store is the reason if I'm homesick and missing the family I go to one (a real hardware store not Lowes/Home Depot). I step inside and breathe deep that odd air that a hardware store has, I know it is weird but it works. I feel at home there.

Thank you for helping me with my grade school project on India. Why did you never tell us you lived in a palace (I saw the pictures!) and were a British citizen? That was a right sneaky thing to keep from us.

You took me to get my ears pierced when I was 7, over the objections of my mother just because I asked you to. You also bought me a ton of earrings and I especially remember the pair of tiny little white rose ones.

Burger Tough. It was the motto, and probably for that reason I insist on doing most home repairs myself. It is also why I'm sure you'd be annoyed I was crying this week. Sorry, I just couldn't suck it up this time.

You loved football. LOVED it. You were never more happy to head off with Eddie to drink some beers and cheer on one of the high school teams.

My earliest memory is of our birday party in 1983, I was 3 and you were 56. It was in the basement and had a carosel theme, you made my cake and I can still remember what it looked like. It was magical.

This year our birthdays just won't be the same. It will be lonely having a cake all to myself.

I'll miss you all the days.

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