Goodbye

 January was a struggle for my wonderful husband. The only Grandfather he has ever know died. Greg got the call at work and we ran over to the rest home to say our goodbyes. The family was gracious enough to give everyone time alone to say goodbye.

I want to thank Glen for showing Greg the cowboy ways. It was because of this that Greg fits so well with my family. Greg got his cowboy side because of Glen. Thank you Glen for helping turn my husband into the wonderful man he is.

This is Glen with is wonderful Daughters. This was right before Glen went down hill. You can feel the love radiating off this picture.

Here are some pictures of Glens life.

This is Greg's Grandmother. She was so strong for everyone all day.

Glen it was a privilege to know you.  

 

 Saying goodbye. We know that he is in a better place, playing with our kids.

He loved poetry here is one of his favorites. 

Strawberry Roan

I was just hanging ‘round town, just spending my time,

Wasting my money, not earning a dime,

When a feller comes up and he says I suppose,

You’re a bronc bustin man by the looks of your clothes.

Well you figures me right, I’m a good one they claim,

Do you happen to have any bad ones to tame?

He says I got one, he’s a bad one to buck

And at throwing good cowboys he’s had lots of luck.

I ask this ol’ feller just how much he pays,

If I ride this old nag for a couple of days.

He says I pay 10, I says I’m your man,

For the bronc never lived that I couldn’t fan.

So we jump in the buggy, and right after chuck,

We go out to see if the outlaw can buck.

Out in the pasture, all standing alone,

This sleepy ol’ nag, the Strawberry Roan.

His legs are all scared up, he’s got pigeon toes,

Little pig eyes and a big Roman nose.

U-necked and old, with a long lower jaw,

I could see with one eye he’s a regular outlaw.

We catch the ol’ nag, and it sure is a fight,

Next comes the saddle, and I screws it down tight.

He’s about the worst bucker I’ve seen on the range,

He’ll turn on a nickel and give you some change.

He hits on all fours and goes up on high,

And leaves me a spinning’ up there in the sky.

I runs over twice and I comes back to earth,

I lights into cussin’ the day of his birth.

I know there are ponies that I cannot ride,

There’s some of them left, they haven’t all died.

But I’ll bet all my money the man ain’t alive,

That can stay on Ol’ Strawberry when he makes his high dive.

(One of Glen’s favorite poems he recited)