Glenn Franklin Essex died on January 5th, 2026. He passed peacefully at home in Murrells Inlet, sleeping beside his wife Rhoda, who he adored.

Glenn was born February 13, 1958, in Falls Church, Virginia, and grew up in a home defined by the company of brothers and the rhythm of baseball. On the mound, Glenn was a pitcher of remarkable consistency; his philosophy was simple: “just throw strikes.” This approach proved to be the blueprint for his entire life. Glenn was both innately gifted and endlessly hardworking, pitching a life full of strikes that he made look easy, though they were fueled by a quiet, ironclad discipline.

Glenn attended Winthrop University, where he was part of one of the first classes of men to attend the historically all-female school. He met lifelong friends and skipped enough classes to generate a lifetime of stories—including the strategic use of his dog, Dixie, who frequently “got lost” on sorority row, necessitating her rescue by various co-eds.

In 1984, Glenn began a 40-year career at Dynalectric, built on his conviction that 'the best ability is availability.' Glenn walked the talk. He showed up for people; he was always where he said he’d be, doing what he said he’d do. His dedication made him a rock at work and at home, serving as a steady mentor to a generation of Project Managers who sought out his guidance. He paired an understated demeanor with a notorious sense of humor, occasionally leaning into his hidden flair to, for example, win the office Halloween contest as a terrifyingly accurate Chucky. He was principled, consistent, and—above all—present.

In 1985, he met Rhoda Marie Brown, the love of his life. Glenn and Rhoda were married at the Clarendon Baptist Church in Arlington, Virginia on February 15th, 1988. They were freezing but had "a heck of a good time," and began the work of crafting a close, adoring family.

Together, Glenn and Rhoda raised two incredible kids — Cassie and Joshua, who Glenn parented with utter joy and complete focus. Glenn’s love for his kids was total. Their interests became his interests. Glenn coached every sports team that Joshua played on for 12 straight years, never missing a game or a practice. He was a constant, cheering presence for Cassie, celebrating her journey from gymnastics to cheer to horseback riding, and bragging about her title as the State Champion in chin-ups.

Glenn’s love for his kids was surpassed only by his love for Rhoda. Theirs was a love for the ages, and together they bravely conquered life’s ups and downs and collected thousands of shark teeth. They bought their first house with the combined income of hairdressing and pizza delivery, and made it their home over 35 loving years. They were relentless in creating new family traditions, from large-scale Easter Egg hunts to intricate Christmas breakfasts, from terrifying and involved Halloween decor to annual trips to Edisto; they made life memorable.

Glenn loved to laugh. Some jokes he told for the benefit of all. Others were just for him. Glenn laughed easily and laughed hard. Laughter was always his first instinct. When Josh, waving his arms while telling a story, accidentally let fly the splint on his finger and shattered Glenn’s TV, he laughed, and then found a new one. When he received three leaf blowers for Christmas, he laughed, and then kept two. Some of his jokes were longitudinal—like the several months that he spent rescuing Cassie’s least favorite doll from the trash and then hiding it in her room for her to find.

Glenn was a masterful storyteller, regaling his family with tales of sneaking out—of house, of class; tales of boyhood—loaning his car to a friend with no license who subsequently crashed it; tales of complex and premeditated misdeeds: convincing his youngest brother, Jay, that he had accidentally nabbed Bugs Bunny while rabbit hunting, days spent in contests with friends to see who could get the most sunburnt. Most of all, he told stories of his own father’s steady efforts to refine and polish this youthful spirit—lessons he eventually internalized and passed on with grace.

Glenn was whip smart. As a student, he fell asleep in math class because it was too easy. As an adult, he channeled his facility with numbers into various magic tricks. He would call his kids on long drives and guess exactly which mile marker they were at. He would win, year after year, his Fantasy Football league.

Glenn was generous. He gave of everything and all the time he had. He made hundreds of Christmas cookies every year and shipped them all across the world, to his far flung loved ones. He was a committed and long time donor to St. Jude Children’s Hospital, helping countless kids he’d never meet. But he was generous with the people around him too. Every time you entered a room, he would appear with a fist bump, a hug, an I love you—even if you’d been gone for 30 seconds to grab cereal. He once felt so “called” to help a homeless veteran he saw on the street that he turned the car around to provide the man with a hotel, a hot meal, and a bus ticket.

Glenn was intentional. He always started with the end in mind. “Your job as a driver is to get your passenger from point A to point B comfortably, quickly, and safely,” he told his kids when teaching them to drive. He applied that same logic to fatherhood, believing his primary job was to ensure his children were better off than he was. In his final years, he and Rhoda moved to South Carolina, a place that held their family spellbound. It was their “Point B,” a place where they felt most themselves and most together.

Glenn was so many things—an animal lover, a sports fan, and a man deeply concerned with the state of local traffic. But above all else, Glenn was loving and he made his love known. He loved his children, his wife, and his dog Lacey. His family was a bottomless source of joy, laughter, and pride. And for them, he was the rock — a fountain of vocal and unconditional love, a source of steadiness, an unpretentious but unwavering moral character, and a generosity that made you look yourself up and down. He was principled, but far from preachy. Everyone could see what he believed by the way that he lived his life.

Glenn is survived by his wife, Rhoda and children, Cassie (Andrew Hornbeck) and Joshua (Clementine Jacoby). A beloved brother and uncle, he is also missed by his siblings, Steve, Rick, Ron, and Jay, and by his sisters-in-law, nieces, and nephews. He is reunited with his parents (Franklin and Mable Jean), who preceded him in death.

In lieu of flowers, the family invites you to contribute to a Memorial Bench in Murrells Inlet—Glenn’s favorite place—so that others may sit and enjoy the beauty of the Inlet just as he did: https://everloved.com/life-of…

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