George Vernon King, Jr.

George Vernon King Jr., age 58, of Ocala, Florida, passed away peacefully on September 12, 2026, surrounded by the people who loved him most.

George was born on November 11, 1967, in Homestead, Florida, to George Vernon King Sr. and Phyllis King.

To describe George simply as a father, grandfather, brother, or friend would never be enough. George was a presence. He was the kind of person who left a mark on your heart, the kind you didn’t forget once you knew him.

Family was everything to George. He loved his children and grandchildren with his whole heart, and he would have given the shirt off his back to anyone who needed it. He was always willing to help, always willing to give, and always willing to be there for the people he loved. His family was his greatest pride, and being a dad and Pawpaw was one of the most important parts of who he was.

George had his own way of doing things, and those little things are the things his family will miss the most. You could almost always find him with a Pepsi in his big Polar Pop tumbler, and if there was a Miami Hurricanes game on, you could bet George was watching. He was a proud Hurricanes fan and never needed much of an excuse to talk about his team.

Then there was his guitar.

George absolutely loved playing guitar. But what made it even more special was watching him teach his children and grandchildren how to play. He wasn’t just passing down chords or songs—he was passing down pieces of himself. The sound of his guitar, the songs he played, and the memories made with him will forever be part of his family’s story.

And, of course, there was one thing everyone knew about George…

He was the “King.”

He made sure nobody forgot it either.

That nickname wasn’t just a name. It became part of him, part of the jokes, part of the memories, and part of the love his family will carry forward. There will always be a little piece of George in every family gathering, every song played on a guitar, every Pepsi in a Polar Pop tumbler, and every time someone proudly reminds us that they are part of the King family.

George is survived by his beloved mother, Phyllis King, who will carry the memories of her son in her heart forever.

He is also survived by his sons, George King III (Samantha), Austin King, Shawahan King, and Shayann King; his daughters, Kayla Outlaw (Murray) and Makayla King; his brother, Hardy King (Sheila); and his sister, Cindy Percibal (John).

He leaves behind fourteen grandchildren who were blessed to call him Pawpaw: Alyssa Outlaw, Ansley Outlaw, Adam Outlaw, Ashton Outlaw, Haven King, Aaron King, Elizabeth King, Isabella King, George King IV, Aaron King, Aurora King, Skylar King, Ieland King, and Asher King.

To his children, he was Dad.

To his grandchildren, he was Pawpaw.

To his mother, he was her son.

To his siblings, he was their brother.

And to the people who knew him, he was simply George—a man who loved hard, gave freely, made people laugh, played his guitar, drank his Pepsi, cheered for his Hurricanes, and made sure everyone knew exactly who was the King.

For his children, losing their dad means losing a piece of their home.

It means learning how to live in a world where they can no longer call him, hear his voice, sit beside him, or make new memories with him. It means wishing they could have one more conversation, one more laugh, one more hug, one more song, or just one more ordinary day with their dad.

But his love doesn’t disappear just because he is gone.

It lives on in his children.

It lives on in his grandchildren.

It lives on in his mother, his siblings, and every person who was lucky enough to love him.

It lives on in the songs he taught them.

It lives on in the stories they’ll tell about him.

It lives on in the lessons he passed down.

And it lives on every time someone says his name.

George may have left this world, but he left behind a lifetime of love, memories, lessons, laughter, and pieces of himself in the people he loved most.

His family will carry those pieces forever.

Rest easy, Dad. Rest easy, Pawpaw. Rest easy, son. Rest easy, brother.

Your fight is over. Your guitar may be quiet now, but the music you left behind will never stop playing in the hearts of the people who loved you.

You were, and always will be, the King.

Forever loved. Forever missed. Forever our King.