At age 93, beloved legally blind and deaf customer walked to Dish for breakfast every day

One scrambled egg, two pieces of bacon burned to a crisp, sourdough toast, fruit cup, coffee and a glass of OJ.

This was Bob’s breakfast.

Each day, Bob Killough made the quarter of a mile walk down The Plaza with his walker to Dish on Thomas Avenue in east Charlotte.

Bob sat at table #1 — a booth right next to the restaurant’s entrance — and greeted customers as he waited for a server to push through the kitchen’s silver saloon doors and bring his special order.

It was a meal he had so frequently that the restaurant programmed it into the POS system under “Bob’s Breakfast.”

“He was an institution,” server Sarah Kelly said.

Robert “Bob” Killough, a regular customer at the Dish for the past three years, died on Valentine’s Day after complications from an ulcer, his daughter, Elizabeth, said. He was 93.

Family and friends will gather on Thursday at 6 p.m. at Dish to honor his memory.

Dish’s staff has a deep love for Bob. Some would even stop by his apartment to bring him food for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

“If he ever missed a day we’d get worried and go check on him,” server Colby Cannon said.

Rain or shine, Bob was determined to make his way to Dish, Elizabeth said. It would shock many to know that Bob was legally deaf and blind.

Macular degeneration took his eyesight over the past five years. And a shell that went off near his ear during Army training before the Korean War took most of his hearing.

It was nerve wracking thinking of her dad making the walk everyday, but she ultimately decided to let him continue. “That’s what he wanted, you know?” she said.

Elizabeth said it warmed her heart to know so many people at the restaurant loved and cared for her father. And he loved the restaurant back.

“He loved his meal, and he loved how eclectic the other customers were,” she said. “There was always someone with a new story, with a new background, with something interesting for him.”

Bob never knew a stranger, friend Carrie Copeland said. He was always chatting with someone and making new friends.

That’s how she got to know him during the pandemic. She sat beside him at a coffee shop and he instantly started a conversation.

After talking with him a few more times, she learned that his family didn’t live in the state and with the pandemic effects changing the world, she felt he needed to be looked after.

She began helping him get to doctor appointments, the grocery store — and at least once a week — Dish.

“If one day I end up being 90 plus years old… I would hope somebody would extend some kind of kindness towards me,” Copeland said.

Today, Bob’s booth at the diner is empty. Above it, a note is etched on printer paper in blue highlighter.

It reads: “In loving memory of Robert ‘Bob” Killough.”

This story was originally published February 19, 2025 at 10:52 AM.