Jerry W. Boomer

January 1st, 1941 - May 7th, 2023

Jerry's Memory Wall

We encourage you to share your most beloved memories of Jerry here, so that the family and other loved ones can always see it. Share your favorite stories or comment on those shared by others.

My best friend, my confidant, my counselor, my biggest fan. He was “my guy”. I love you Dad and I miss our everyday talks, more like affirmations for the day just to get me through the morning and then lunch break to “check in” and then recap of the work day and the courage and more affirmations to do it again the next day. You and Vance are a team up there now and I need you to watch over me, like you always have and rain down your affirmations to keep me going. Thank you for the many voicemails I saved throughout the years and how everyone ended with I love you and then just a hang up. You never said goodbye. Maybe because you know it’s not goodbye but it’s see you later. Love you and miss you forever, Dad. He loved to write poems and tell jokes. One of the last poems he wrote me, he left on my voicemail. It goes like this: “There once was a girl named Jeri who thought that banking was kind of scary, but she cane to realize it wasn’t that hairy” ~Jerry Boomer

Your daughter, Jeri Anne

June 5th, 2023 at 10:02pm

I was so saddened to hear about the loss of Jerry. He was our neighbor on Napier Avenue when we moved next door back in 1976. My son and daughter grew up with Jerri Ann and Renee all the way through high school. Jerry and his girls were great neighbors and he was always willing to help us with anything needed. He will be truly missed by his family and friends. RIP Jerry.

Cathy Taber

May 12th, 2023 at 11:10am

I will always remember Daddy Boom! The closest thing I had a father growing up, and the door was always open. The lectures and the memories at the kitchen table will remain with me forever. Much love and big hugs ti the entire family.

Sally (Schalon) Sierra

May 10th, 2023 at 8:52pm

So many memories that flood my mind. Jerry aka. "DAD" to everyone that entered the house, absolutely loved his family and that love spilled over into all the kids that would "hang out" He cared for me as one of his own- He allowed us to be kids- we all had fun staying up all night laughing and acting crazy- and many times "sneaking in" way past the curfew...then after our shinanigans on Friday nights, the next day Saturday morning it was "chores time" we would all start the cleaning process- just imagine about 5-7 teenage girls (the gang of kids) cleaning the house- it was an expectation that was completely normal in fact it was just what we as part of the "Boomer Family" would do- (that is how it was back when I was a kid)- I for one would almost stay at the house every single weekend I would be there, and many times til Monday when I would just go to school with Renee and Jeri. He made me feel part of his family, he treated me so kindly and as a kid I just knew he he did love me not just because "I am a friend of Jeri and Renee", but because he was a kind soul who knew some of us needed that "extra love".. I was made to feel at "home". He would always say " If you want something to eat "go make it" if you made a mess "clean it" there was no feeling of awkwardness or outcast- just pure fatherly love. I love you. Grief is like the ocean — a constant surge of waves, a continual collection of salt and tears. Sometimes grief is loud, both tidal and tempestuous, an overwhelming pain that breaks you open and crashes against your heart. Other times it’s quiet, discreetly hiding beneath the surface, presenting itself as a steady hush of longing. Grief is full of unknowns that can only be discovered when swimming in its depths. Some days sorrow and joy will be intertwined, a delicate dance of dark and light — both deserve to be softly held, both belong in sight. When grief calls you to its edge, tread gently in its space — for no matter what you feel you are always held by grace. You cannot slow down the ocean, you cannot tame the sea, so ache, laugh, break, mend — let your emotions free. Driven by the tides, your pain will recede, but like a persistent undercurrent, a sense of longing may never leave. And that’s the art of living on but never letting go. If you're ever lost in the infinite sea, may you find peace in knowing that unending grief is also endless love. For grief may try and weigh you down, but your love for them will carry you. Always.