The Enduring Echo of a Gentle Soul: Remembering Jeri Abell-Southwick

In truth, some lives, you could say, simply leave a softer footprint on the world, yet their impact resonates with an astonishing clarity. Such was the life of Jeri Abell-Southwick, who, for once, departed this world on November 7, 2025, just a few short days shy of her 90th birthday. Born in the quiet heartland of Creston, Iowa, on November 10, 1935, Jeri's journey was one marked by an unwavering grace, a quiet strength, and a profound capacity for love that truly touched every soul she encountered.

Jeri grew up in a simpler time, you see, a world where community ties were woven tight and neighbor helped neighbor without a second thought. And it was within this embrace that she cultivated her enduring values: kindness, integrity, and a steadfast devotion to family. She attended Creston High School, where, honestly, her infectious laughter and genuine warmth made her a beloved presence. After graduating, she married the love of her life, David Southwick, in a small ceremony that, by all accounts, was as full of hope as any spring morning.

Together, Jeri and David built a home brimming with affection, raising three wonderful children—Sarah, Michael, and Emily. Their home wasn't just a place to live; it was a sanctuary, a hub of bustling activity, laughter, and the undeniable aroma of Jeri's famous apple pie. She was, if we're being honest, the quintessential homemaker, yet her role extended far beyond the confines of four walls. Jeri volunteered tirelessly at the local library, sharing her passion for literature, and she often spent afternoons tending to her vibrant garden, a place of peace and beauty that mirrored her own spirit.

Her kindness wasn't loud or ostentatious; no, it was a gentle current, always there, always reliable. She had this remarkable way of listening, really listening, making you feel like your words were the most important in the world. And she offered solace without judgment, a quiet strength that many found incredibly comforting during their own difficult times. As her children grew and had families of their own, Jeri embraced her role as a grandmother with an unmatched fervor. Her grandchildren — seven of them, in fact — were the absolute light of her later years, each visit a treasure trove of stories, hugs, and, yes, more of that famous apple pie.

But then, life, as it always does, brought its own share of challenges. She faced personal losses with an admirable resilience, leaning on her faith and the deep roots she had planted in her community. Yet, through it all, her gentle demeanor never wavered. Her spirit remained unbroken, a testament to the quiet power of a life lived with purpose and an open heart. We will miss her terribly, of course, that gentle smile, her knowing glance, the comfort of her presence. But perhaps, just perhaps, her legacy isn't merely in the memories we hold, but in the quiet kindnesses we might choose to extend, inspired by the beautiful example she set. Jeri is now reunited with David and her parents, resting in eternal peace, leaving behind a legacy as rich and vibrant as her beloved garden.