Jeffrey Ray Austin, 60, peacefully passed away on Sunday, August 4, 2024, surrounded by his family and friends.
Jeffery Austin is survived by his parents, Ray and Lorene Austin; his wife Amanda West-Austin; his brother Wes Austin; his children Jesse Massey, Hannah Austin, Macy Austin, Ellis Austin, Rider Austin; his grandchildren Lyrik Massey, Jude Massey, Archer Austin-Jones, Griffin Austin-Jones, Skye Austin-Jones and Joan Charlotte Austin. He will be greatly missed and remembered with love.
Each of Jeff’s children wrote a memorial, we knew he would want them all.
From Jesse- I’ve sat and stared at this paper for a long time. How do you put into words what someone has meant to you? It is impossible. I have never been a wordsmith or a poet or any of those other philosophical things that allow you to put pen and paper to good use, but Dad most certainly was, His words and stories will echo in my mind, and I will forever find a bit of quiet peace knowing that he’s there.
From Lyrik (his granddaughter)-Human beings are complex creatures with complex emotions. Grief processes in different ways for everyone- it could slowly creep into your subconscious months from now, it could slam into you all at once, and it could appear as the infamous five stages- there’s nearly an infinity of possibilities. But it will happen, no matter when and no matter how. This is not a bad thing. Grief is merely a melancholic acknowledgement of what once was, it is, in the simplest of words, remembrance. And when something is remembered it is cherished and it is not at all gone or lost. Remember him for the person he was, love him for the person he will be.
From Jude (his grandson)- That one time when Papa and I were watching the Duke vs Carolina game and I had been joking saying go Duke all day and Carolina got blown out.
From Hannah- My Dad was the most incredible man. He was kind and gentle, hilariously funny, a brilliant artist and poet. He raised his daughters to be strong Southern women and his son to be a kind and caring man. His grandchildren adored him, and he adored and doted on them right back. I have been so blessed and privileged to have him as my father. I never once had to wonder if he was proud of me, he never shied away from sharing his love and pride of his children. I miss him terribly, but I feel him in my heart and I know he will never leave us. He will be there every step of the way and we will meet again on the other side of the river.
From Macy- Beginnings can be difficult. How could we possibly sum up a lifetime in just a few words? How do we tell a story and encapsulate a world that a person created by being here? Dad was Dad. My first memory is getting stitches. I can see the light above me as the doctor worked and right beside me was Dad. And that’s how he was. No matter what it was he was beside us. He went to every game (no matter how bad the team was) and came to every play (no matter how big or small the role was, or if we were even on the stage). He would listen to our problems and then ask us what we were going to do about it. He would guide us through the hard part, helping us figure things out, giving us the tools to get to the best decision for ourselves. But Lord help you if you used actual tools around him! He taught us how to use tools, how to build things (so many memories of Dad building his house and him letting us help as much as we could) how to take care of what we used, how to clean up after. But there were plenty of times (more than I care to admit) that Dad would see us messing up and go “Let me show you a trick” and then just take over. He did that with hammers, saws, spatulas when I was trying to make breakfast, sports equipment (especially when I was playing softball). It was always done out of love and probably because he was losing patience. The way he did it made the situation funny, and it became a joke us kids would say to each other, and now I say it to my own kids (or really anyone I see that needs some help). He had the patience of a saint, which came in handy with all us kids. Dad was brilliant. Not only in the traditional way, knowing so much about history and engineering and so many other things, but he was a brilliant artist. From sketching and painting, to pottery and carving. He was not only brilliant, he was clever too. He was the master of story telling, he had a way of bringing you in and keeping you in a trance. The ghost stories around the camp fire, the random stories from his life that would make us believe he was a real life Ferris Bueller, and those quick comebacks he could pull out of seemingly no where. Griffin said he was the funniest man he ever met. And one of Archers favorite moments with him was when he named a little stuffed turtle she gave him. The little brown turtle was practically a ball, super round and squishy. He named it ‘Toothpick’, I’m pretty sure my kids got their pet naming from him, he had a goat named Goat after all. The kids all love him, it might have taken him putting Skye on his lap and watching a fire for hours for her to be happy about being held, (she never wanted anyone to hold her but me) but that soon became her favorite spot. She loved being able to sing Sweet Baby James to him for his birthday. And just like he did for his kids, he came to all the things for the grandkids if he could, and if not he demanded pictures and videos and then called to talk to them. He encouraged Archer’s art, Griffin’s curiosity of how things were put together, and Skye’s unique way of doing things. There’s so much to say. So much to talk about. So many stories to share. And that was what he wanted, for us to tell his stories. Dad was Dad. Unapologetically himself. A story with no ending. Even if he’s not the one telling the stories, he will always be a part of them. His memories, his wit, the knowledge he passed down will always be a part of the world he created. Beginnings are difficult, but endings are impossible. He’ll always be with us, so his story will never end. We love you, Daddy!
From Ellis- A Haiku for my Father
Castle in the woods
Crafted by his steady hands
Labor of his love
My father was a great man. For much of my life I have described him as a Ferris Bueller-esque person. His charisma was unparalleled, his wit legendary. No other man on earth could have out sassed his four teenage daughters! He was the king of the comeback and never failed to make me smile. Once we found a goat by the side of the road. He said if we wanted to keep it we could name it either “Goat” or “Gyro” as those were the goats choices in life. We called him Goat. The man also let me keep a wild turkey as a pet! There is no doubting the love he had for his five children.
From Rider- My Father was such a great man, and we have lost so much with his passing. He will be missed more than I can ever really know. He taught us so much, to love nature, to think for ourselves, and among so much more, to enjoy life. I will always remember our family road trips to the beach, listening to audio books while my sisters and I probably drove him a little crazy. All the times we went to river and panned for gold, or fished or just played in the water. There is so much I owe him for, and I’m so thankful and proud to have such an amazing father as him. We have truly lost a great man, but we know he will be with us forever, in our hearts and in the hills.
A poem written by his eldest granddaughter, Lyrik Massey
“An ending is only and ending if you think of it as such”
I hope death is like drifting off to sleep as you watch the rain outside your window, warm and safe and silently happy.
I hope death is like laying down on the grass in spring, the breeze gently brushing your arms and blowing your hair and the bees buzzing softly
I hope death feels like reaching the end of your favorite book, a bittersweet ending and I sadness that its over, but still smiling at the story and the life it let you live through it.
I hope death is kind and beautiful and sweet and lovely, the kind of thing you hope a mother would be.
I hope death loves you more than you loved yourself, and I hope it lets you love your next life.
I hope death smells like sweet lavender and a hint of lemongrass, the cookies your grandmother used to make.
I hope death tastes like cherries in summer and watermelon with salt, and I hope you enjoy that moment of being a kid again.
I hope death greets you like an old lover lost, and I hope you greet it as a friend.
-Lyrik Jane Massey, age 15
A Celebration of Life with friends and close family will be held on a later date.
“Farewell to the Highlands,
Farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour,
The country of Worth,
Wherever I Wander,
Wherever I Rove,
The hills of the Highlands
Forever I love”
-Robert Burns, 1759-1796
Evans Funeral Service is honored to serve the family of Jeffrey Ray Austin.
