Jeffrey Carl Jones passed away on Friday, February 28, 2025. While he had been ill, his passing was sudden and unexpected. He was 73 years old.

Jeff was a beloved husband to his wife Jill, father to Hilary and Jack, surrogate father to his son-in-law Zach, grandfather to Leo and Tate, brother to Mike, Susie, and Donny, and son to Evelyn and Jack. He cherished his nephews, nieces, cousins, and his many dear friends.

Jeff grew up on South Shelton Street, and was a proud Seattle native. To know Jeff was to have heard his stories of growing up on Beacon Hill. He cut his teeth playing soccer at Georgetown Playfield, and went on to be an accomplished soccer player. He had a deep respect for his loving and hardworking parents, and he lived his entire life by the values of family, community, and sacrifice they taught him. He loved his siblings immensely, cared for his sister through her own illness and passing, and was as close to his brothers in adulthood as he was when they were kids getting into shenanigans in South Seattle.

Jeff and Jill were married 43 years. They took their vows to stand by each other in sickness and in health seriously, and cared for each other deeply and always, in good times and bad. The good times vastly outnumbered the bad, and were too many to count. He loved Jill so completely that he followed her to California to be near their children and grandchildren—his Seattle roots were woven so deeply into his DNA that this was an act of true love. They had a lifetime of adventures together, both close to home and while traveling the world.

He and Jill raised their family in the Blue Ridge neighborhood of North Seattle, in a happy home with apple trees and a tire swing out back, a sprawling lawn he always kept neatly mowed, and the best Christmas lights in the neighborhood (even if he only actually won the neighborhood’s annual Christmas light competition once). He supported his children endlessly. He always showed up for them—to coach their teams and cheer in the audience, to help with their homework and proofread their term papers, to answer the phone in the middle of the night, to get on a plane at a moment’s notice. He always knew how to fix it, whether “it” was as simple as finding the right battery or screwdriver, or something that was much bigger, and harder to solve.

He was a brilliant attorney. Deeply ethical and compassionate, his work was never just a job for him—it was a calling and a duty to care for the people he represented, and that sometimes meant he worried about it long after he’d come home from the office. Because of this, he always told his children not to become lawyers. His son Jack heeded his good advice and forged his own path, first as a talented chef, and now pursuing a career in the medical field. His daughter Hilary predictably ignored him. He never held that against her—he patiently answered many questions about personal jurisdiction while she was studying for the bar, and always offered his wisdom and advice freely. She is proud every day to follow in his footsteps.

He was a beloved “Poppy” (like his dad before him) to his grandchildren Leo and Tate. He saw them almost every day, and there aren’t adequate words to describe how much they both loved and delighted in him, and he in them. Along with their “Gigi,” he picked the boys up from school, and made it to all of their soccer and basketball and T-ball games, just like he never missed a game or recital when his own kids were young. He wondered why they weren’t doing proper penalty kicks in 8 and under rec league soccer, and was considering coaching the team next year. He could never say no to one more story or one more game of checkers, and made sure his grandchildren could name all of the Beatles (and their hits) as soon as they could talk, just like he made sure his own children could when they were young.

Jeff will be profoundly missed by his friends and family. We are all better for having known and loved him.

A celebration of Jeff’s life will be held at the Canal Ballard on April 27, 2025 from 11-3pm. Please come and share your memories, photos, and stories. If you knew Jeff, you know that he loved almost nothing better than a good story.

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