Clifton Bruce Welch
Clifton Bruce Welch, age 51, died November 18, 2019, after a courageous and well-fought battle with colon cancer. Cliff was born on March 4th, 1968 in Atlanta, GA to Shyrl Hendrickson and Bruce Welch. He graduated Phi Beta Kappa from UNC Chapel Hill (1986-1990) and UNC Chapel Hill Law School (1990-1993). Cliff was an exceptionally bright construction lawyer and had a successful career as a litigation attorney in Atlanta. In his free time, Cliff enjoyed time with friends and family, traveling, watching UNC basketball, cooking, and making people laugh with his sarcasm, quick wit, and one-liners.
Cliff is survived by his mother and step-dad, Shyrl and Ron Hendrickson, his father and step-mom, Bruce and Marcia Welch, his three sisters and spouses, Allison and Daniel Bennett, Christy and Tom Graham, and Lauren and Rob Langley, and his 9 nieces and nephews.
Friends and family are invited to join us in memory of Cliff on Monday, November 25, 2019 at 2:00 p.m. at The Cathedral of St. Philip. 2744 Peachtree Road NW, Atlanta, GA 30305. In lieu of flowers, a contribution can be made to the Colorectal Cancer Alliance in his honor at
https://fundraise.ccalliance.org/blue-star-tributes/CliffWelch
View current weather.
Memories Timeline
Guestbook
Sign the Guestbook, Light a Candle
Oh how I’m gonna miss my friend. We didn’t talk or see each other nearly as often as we should have, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. We were so similar it was amazing…from sports to politics, we had the same brain. I’ll miss that magnificent personality and that contagious laugh most of all.
My thoughts and prayers are with the entire family and all of Cliff’s multitude of other friends. 🙏🏻
Cliff – I won’t say “goodbye” because I’m confident I’ll see you later. ❤️
Allison and Shyrl, I am so sorry to hear about this. I will be keeping you and your family in my prayers. Lots of good memories include you all.
I suppose the best way to begin is at the beginning. My husband, Sal, is a musician. Long story short, he was playing at Pricci, and I happened to be there. A nice looking young man was at the bar and he smiled at me. I thought that was a sweet gesture. The next thing I knew he walked over to my table, and said, I’m assuming you are Sal’s wife, and I said yes, he said, “I love the way your husband plays and sings.” And that was the beginning of our friendship.
As the years went on Cliff would pop in places Sal played, typically I would be there, and we got to know each other better.We loved swapping recipes, and talking about all kinds of food, it became our thing, Cliff was a great food critic, and we were both fond of many of the same restaurants. Sal and Cliff shared the most insane jokes, you could hear those two laugh a mile away, and they shared their great love of music and sports.We thought the world of Cliff, he was truly one in a million. We will forever be grateful for his friendship,his kindness and the love he shared with us. I will surely miss this young man, and I consider us very lucky that he graced our lives more than he’ll ever know. God rest your beautiful soul Cliff, and know that you will always remain in our hearts.Our deepest sympathy to Cliff’s family and friends, and to Cliff, may you rest in peace with Gods love.
.
Allison and Shyrl, I am so sorry to hear about this. I will be keeping you and your family in my prayers. Lots of good memories include you all.
I was so saddened to hear about Cliff’s passing. Cliff and I worked together and kept up with one another for a while after working together through lunches. He will be greatly missed.
I first met Cliff back in the 80’s. His sister Allison was one of my best friends. When we began playing sports in junior high, we’d end up at Allison’s house a lot before and after games or for the weekend. Cliff’s bedroom was beside Allie’s…you couldn’t miss it. It was Carolina blue with UNC Tarheel posters all over. We’d start giggling and laughing at night, and there would be a loud knock on the door. It was an annoyed Cliff. He would give a long stare without saying a word and then walk away. I remember several times when we would walk in their front door and Cliff would come walking out of the kitchen, see our little group of girls, and yell “No! How many of you this time?!?” Then he’s comb his hair back with his fingers, say a few sarcastic things, and then shake his head and laugh. Years later, I apologized to him for all of us driving him crazy…he said we weren’t that bad. :). I remember having conversations with him as I was older…his sarcastic sense of humor…his vast intelligence on so many subjects…his quick wit and hearty laughter. As the years went on, we’d comment every once in a while on Facebook. I was diagnosed with cancer in 2013, and he was one of the friends that reached out to me. Then, when he was diagnosed in 2018, we messaged back and forth. You just never know when you’ll have your last conversation with someone on this earth.
My relationship with Cliff started at Bi-Lo #146 in Arden. Who would have thought that a high school job would create some of my fondest memories and life-long friendships. Cliff’s wit and intellect made the mundane of ringing up groceries and blocking aisles fun, and eventually, we started dating. He was my first love, and he will always hold a special place in my heart. He was a gentle, beautiful person who always made me feel very special. As often happens with young love, we drifted apart, and I hadn’t seen Cliff in over 20 years. We reconnected on Facebook, and it was nice to see what he was up to periodically. When I found out he was sick, I checked in more frequently. As is typical of Cliff, his tenacity became ever evident as he entered the fight of his life. What a warrior. Rest well, my friend.
Cliff Welch
1968–2019
There are more photos of unicorns frolicking in Piedmont Park than there are snapshots of my friend Cliff Welch. His disdain for having his picture taken was equaled only by my diametrically opposed embrace for all things selfie. The photo of Cliff and me below is from the 2009 Final Four weekend in Chapel Hill, where I was happy to have my collegiate Tar Heels meet my Atlanta Carolina family for what became Roy’s second national championship.
Though he was only a couple of years older, and also a Double Heel like me, our paths never crossed in Chapel Hill. Even when I started working at his father’s law firm in ’98, we didn’t meet.
Our origin story began in earnest on March 24, 2000 when we watched our underdog Tar Heels unseat the higher ranked Tennessee Volunteers en route to what is still Carolina’s most unlikely Final Four run ever. Mentally drained and hoarse from that game, we settled in after the crowd cleared to have drinks and just revel in how fantastic it was to witness that game. Ended up shutting down the Cheyenne Grille that night and bribed the manager to sell us two of their shirts to commemorate the night.
Our social circles overlapped in those days with several other attorneys our age from that era, aided in part by Why Not Wednesday happy hours in Buckhead and Midtown, and anchored by weekly team trivia nights at The Fox & Hound on Collier Road. As time moved on and friends got married and moved from apartments to homes and started having kids, some of those social events fell by the wayside.
But we always had Carolina basketball. I don’t know if we complemented one another or whether we were enablers of our own basketball superstitions and routines; bringing out the most primal of Tar Heel passion during close games. Cliff and I generally could only tolerate those fans who watched like us. We never wanted to watch with anyone but serious and dedicated Tar Heels; not the talkative, fair-weather, folks who were casual fans just there to socialize. WATCH THE GAME OR FIND ANOTHER TABLE!
Our commentary rivaled any you might hear from Woody or Jones because it was always riddled with movie quotes, Mike Judge characters’ voices, stand-up routines, Austin Powers soliloquies from Dr. Evil, or a growing list of things Cliff just made up in the moment. I was content to simply toss up softballs which showcased his talents so that he could knock them out of the park.
Cliff could imitate any voice, any character and recite VERBATIM any line from anything he ever heard. He had an encyclopedic recall for lyrics and dialogue. He often moved you to tears of joy with his expert joke telling. I’ve never had a person give me more stitches in my side from laughing so hard. And if you ever had the good fortune to sit between him and Marty Johnson, you might as well bring your own oxygen tank so you wouldn’t pass out from the inability to catch your breath.
As the years went by and I moved between law firms, and from working for the defense to representing plaintiffs, before finding my talents as a neutral, hanging out and watching games with Cliff was one of life’s few constants. As reliable as anything in my world over that span, Cliff and I never let people, politics, religion, or anything else get between our friendship. No judgment and no bullshit.
Boasting one of the toughest livers in human history, I’ve watched his drink of choice morph from from Ketel One with a twist of lemon to the revelation he shared with the table when he discovered that Tito’s not only had superior taste but also cost much less. Oh yeah, he also dropped the fruit by then.
When he turned 50 and got that same “welcome to the rest of your life” kit we all face starting around 49, he got a colonoscopy. His life changed forever with the results from that test. Fucking cancer. Why did it have to be cancer? An even money bet among his UNC friends was that the Grim Reaper was going to get Cliff because he blew a fuse cursing at the television while watching the dook game.
As elusive as he was around cameras, however, Cliff was even more stealthy when it came to representing the truth about how he was doing during his cancer journey. A fiercely private individual naturally, he was even more stubborn about letting those close to him appreciate exactly what he was going through with his cancer treatment.
I am just now learning, after comparing notes with other friends of Cliff, including his family, just how God-awful his journey was these last few months. Even though he was able to go to work, attend galas, and make one last game-viewing party to watch our Heels, he was battling excruciating pain and wild fluctuations in weight gain due to fluid retention. A true living hell.
Yet, when I would call, he’d make a joke about not being able to get out of the house because he couldn’t get shoes on his feet. Which prompted me to call him Frodo and exclaim that I could scoop him from the Shire on the way to the Grille if he needed a ride. On occasion I could make him laugh, too.
On Sunday I drove toward Cliff’s condo armed with the knowledge, thanks to his loving stepmom, that he had been given a diagnosis that he might only have four months left. Struggling to get my head around that foreign concept, I had visions of renting suites in his hotel for upcoming Carolina games to host game-viewing parties to which he could shuffle his Hobbit feet so that we could all be together and help him have some normalcy in his last days. I was also psyching myself up so I could project strength while all I felt inside was fear and sadness.
I stood in the lobby of his building with a carefully procured bag of groceries tailored to his preferred diet. Some ice cream to make shakes, freshly cut apples, carrots, and two different types of pickles.
The security lady called up and he told her that he didn’t want any guests. I didn’t think twice about it, choosing to respect his understood need to rest. I would come back later in the week, I reasoned. I would call and see what time would be better. I’d bring more food.
Cliff was gone by the next morning. His mortal coil had betrayed him. I got the news while still at work that evening. I drove home on the mostly empty Atlanta streets listening to Jeff Buckley’s cover of “Hallelujah”.
Don’t listen to that song if you’ve lost a good friend.
Had I known Sunday evening he would be gone less than 15 hours later, I would have darted past that security desk like a ninja. I would have hot-wired that elevator. I would have run up the stairs (for at least the first two or three flights). And I would have given his scrawny ass a big ‘ol bear hug and kissed his head. Cliff would have probably hated both gestures. I’d have done it twice more anyway.
But now he’s gone.
It is still surreal. I am in whatever place you reach when you are beyond sad. I am still in denial, partially because I didn’t see or talk to Cliff every day, so the magnitude of his loss, his permanent loss, is not going to hit me until some key moment in a big game–when I’ll want to look over and feel reassured or have someone channel my inner frustration with just the right, perfectly-timed, articulated exasperation I’ll need to believe the game mojo can be salvaged.
The kind of synchronicity that takes nearly twenty years to hone and craft.
Braver and tougher than any of us knew, Brother, I hope and pray you are pain free; you can rest now. I hope you find a new crew up there that loves you as much as those of us you left behind. It’s harder on us, you know.
To paraphrase from one of our mutual friends, when trying to describe your comedic style, I can’t wait to hear how you gave Jonathan Winters a run for his money on Heaven’s first open mic night.
Love you man. Godspeed, Tar Heel.
https://www.legacy.com/amp/obituaries/atlanta/194517890
My introduction to Cliff began in junior high, nearly 40 years ago. During my last few years living in the Atlanta area, we hung out more than we had in years. I used to sit back and just watch him go on quoting lyrics, movie lines, and stand-up routines. He was definitely one the most talented and driven people I’ve known. Most importantly, he is one the best friends I’ve ever had. I’ll miss you, Cliff. I won’t say goodbye; just, I’ll see you when I see you. Rest easy, brother!
I’ve known Cliff for nearly 40 years. During that time, we stayed in touch here and there. But it wasn’t until the last few years I lived in the Atlanta area, that we hung out on any regular basis. Cliff was one of the most talented and driven individuals I’ve ever known. He could quote lyrics, movie lines, and stand-up routines seemingly without any effort. I used to sit and just watch him go, entertaining all those around. Most importantly, he was one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I’ll miss you, Cliff. Rest easy, Brother!
We are so sorry to hear of Cliff’s passing. He was one of the most articulate, intelligent young men that we had the extreme pleasure of watching grow into the most kind and gifted man. His love of Carolina ball was shared by all of the Smith family, especially Smitty, who would save him a seat just in case he was there for the game. He was always quick with a joke or quote, and truthful to a fault, a great judge of character. He will be greatly missed. Our love and prayers for all who love him.
I have been trying to get in touch with Cliff, my best friend from college and law school at Chapel Hill, for the last couple of weeks. In the middle of the night on Tuesday I googled his name to try and find a different number for him, but found his obituary instead. Even worse his funeral was Monday, so I have even missed that. I knew he was sick, but I had no idea it was so bad. He was one of the funniest people I’ve ever known, and was famous for saying “there are no funny lawyers, only funny people who have made career mistakes.” I spent most Ladd night thinking about him and reading our messages back & forth. We have literally been trying to arrange a time to get together for years, but something always came up. Legitimate things. Life changes. My mom’s death. Moves, schedules, and mostly the demands of our jobs. But the only thing we did was plan. Now it will never happen again. Not here anyway, and I have the worst regret about that. My point is this, tell people you love them and make sure that if there is any way you can see them, that you do it. Thanksgiving is probably a good time to look around the table and be glad for the people you see. I really wish Cliff could have seen Duke lose last night. He would have loved that. Go Heels. To his parents, family, siblings and friends, you have my prayers and sympathy. I just can’t believe he’s gone.
I had the pleasure and the privilege of being with Cliff for 13 years. His sense of humor, quick wit, cleverness, intelligence, kindness and love is something that I cherish and that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Cliff taught me so much about food, wine and some of life’s more exquisite experiences, and while I wasn’t always a good student (I still won’t eat offal, or as we used to call it parts), I was fortunate to be the beneficiary of his vast knowledge and love of the finer things in life. I am grateful to have had so many wonderful life experiences with him, and that he chose to share so many adventures with me over the years. I will also always treasure the times that we spent with family during the holidays and special occasions whether it was in Springfield, in Asheville or in Atlanta. Wherever we were, whether it be at a local restaurant or bar, a friend or family’s house, or on a travel adventure, Cliff was always the raconteur, spilling wit (often sarcastic) and wisdom like a modern-day Mark Twain. Whether it was an everyday, regular type of situation or incident, or something more extraordinary, Cliff helped me and so many others see the humor that is hidden in every situation or occurrence. He was a genius in many, many ways and his sheer intellect, astuteness about social situations, sense of humor and comedic timing were truly awe-inspiring and will be sorely missed. He could have had a day’s worth of conversations simply using movie lines. I can just imagine Cliff in heaven mixing a martini or a Manhattan (or both), telling a funny story or giving a one-line zinger and cajoling laughs out of all. Cliff you will be forever loved, missed and remembered and I pray that you are at peace now. Much love, Jenn
This message is a bit late but wanted to mention that Cliff was truly a great guy. I worked as his concierge at the condo he resided in and had a lot of great interactions with him. We would often make light of the things that would annoy him (food delivery always messing up his orders) and how “it’s always something”. At first glance one may have thought Cliff was unapproachable, but after knowing him for a short period, he was genuinely a great man and accomplished a lot in his time on Earth from the brief information he would share with me. I remember checking up on him via phone when he was overseas for business I believe and once he realized who was calling, I could tell he was super grateful to know people cared about him and checked up on him, especially toward the end of his life.
Thanks for the company and laughs, Cliff. Cheers to you.