Greg had a premonition that he wouldn’t live long enough to see his children grow up. It shaped the man he was, the way he lived his life, and the legacy he leaves behind.

This will not be a traditional obituary. It is not in chronological order. It will not deliver a list of those who preceded him in death, nor those by whom he is survived.

It will, however, illustrate a life well-lived by a man who truly knew what mattered.

First things first. Anyone who has spoken to Greg for more than a few minutes knows that, before anything else, Greg was a family man. He was a certified “wife guy” and he couldn’t hold a conversation without bringing up his pride and joy: his two sons Woodrow and Theodore.

While other kids dreamed of growing up to be the President or play in the Super Bowl, a young Gregory dreamed of getting married and having kids. To become a husband and father was his ultimate goal. And he NAILED IT.

Greg put his wife Michael and his beautiful, brilliant children first at every turn. Sacrificing the finer things in life, Greg and Michael instead chose a life rich in togetherness. They homeschooled their kids. They picked flexible jobs that enabled them to be present as much as possible. They arranged their lives with quality time being the most precious resource.

As a result, Greg spent most of his lunch breaks in the backyard with Teddy and Woodrow hitting off the tee, his evenings shuffling them to practice, and his weekends watching them play baseball, football, and wrestling. Just the way he wanted.

Shortly before he passed, Greg reflected that, hour-for-hour, he and Michael had probably spent more time together with their kids in 12 years than some parents get to spend with theirs in a lifetime. It is comforting to imagine that he thought of this again with gratitude in his final moments earth side.

Greg was also deeply intentional about the work he chose, making sure the time he gave to his career was time well spent. Detesting the “rat race,” Greg’s professional life was dedicated to being of service to those in need.

In Colorado, he helped members of his community attain food and housing assistance. After moving to North Carolina in 2017, he spent several years aiding in the rehabilitation of formerly incarcerated men and women, whom he advocated for passionately and without judgment. Most recently, he was proud to be working in tech alongside his adored colleagues, once more serving under-resourced populations. Looking back now, what a gift to have spent decades pouring his heart and soul into meaningful work that changed lives.

As a reluctant social butterfly, Greg’s innate charisma and genuine care for others usually overrode his desire for solitude, peace, and quiet. The hundreds of neighbors and members of the Toledos’ “baseball family” who gathered in North Carolina to celebrate his life were evidence of a parent, coach, and friend who loved hard, saw the best in people, and forged connections wherever he went.

Greg never intended to have so many friends. In fact, he insisted he only needed 2 or 3. Instead, he departed this world with hundreds of friends who loved him dearly and will miss him terribly.

While youth sports (and three old cars in constant need of his handiwork) prevented any fancy vacations and left little room for hobbies, Greg liked to spend his free weekends at the beach with Michael and the boys, finding local car shows to attend with his kids, and flying to Colorado when possible to spend time with his closest cousins and longtime friends. He made time for fantasy football and especially for his Steelers, even taking the trip of a lifetime with his dad JR to see the Steelers play in Heinz Field.

Greg was also a nostalgic and romantic man. He remembered nearly every detail of his childhood and adolescence and loved to retell his favorite stories about growing up. He developed a love for romcoms after watching them with his mom Liz and his sister Felicia, and it remained his favorite genre throughout his life (surprising those who knew Greg as a big “manly man”). He was the type to call just to say he loved you. We will all miss that dearly.

Aside from his children, one of Greg’s greatest loves was music. In fact, Greg and Michael met and fell instantly in love because of music. Greg loved to share the story of meeting Michael and discovering they both had the same ringtone—a song called Bonita Applebum—and how they named their first dog Bonita in honor of that fateful night. Whether Greg was rapping along to Jay-Z, crooning with the Isley Brothers, jamming to Bad Bunny, or crying over sappy country songs, Greg’s entire life had a soundtrack as unique and passionate as he was.

Behind his large, intimidating stature and constantly furrowed brows was…an actual teddy bear. Greg’s heartfelt pep talks could take you by surprise and make you feel like a superhero. His advice was steady and reasoned. His jokes were ELITE, and his hugs….his hugs were like nothing on this earth.

Greg leaves behind an unfillable void.

He leaves behind two sons, whose hardest days are yet to come as they endure every difficulty and every milestone without their biggest fan and mentor. Greg was so proud of his children for everything they accomplished, but even more proud of them for how they handled adversity and failure. And he always will be.

He leaves behind a wife who kinda doesn’t even know who she is without her soulmate, protector, dance partner, and personal hype-man beside her. Greg and Michael had planned to pass away holding hands in their sleep as octogenarians, like in The Notebook. 17 years together was not enough.

He leaves behind his BELOVED furry companion Jazzy, who remained loyally by his side in his final moments as he collapsed while walking her around the neighborhood.

He leaves behind an extended family whose traditions and inside jokes are forever altered and tinged with sadness.

But he also leaves behind a vast web of people whose lives have been touched, directly or indirectly, by his kindness and openness.

May we all be so blessed as to live our lives like Greg lived his: knowing our time here is short, and spending our days thusly.