Douglas C. Filer, a beloved husband, father, grandfather, brother, and friend, left this world on October 7, 2025, in Seattle, Washington, in the presence of loved ones. He was 70 years old. Born on September 9, 1955, Doug moved through life with purposeful stride, guided always by integrity, grit, and his competitive spirit. His days were full, his passions honest, and his love steadfast, especially for his wife of 48 years, Candy Filer.
Doug was a man drawn toward motion. In youth he was equally at home in the sky as on the ground, flying small planes, riding dirt bikes, and pushing boats to their limits during his racing years. When fatherhood arrived, he traded danger for craftsmanship, becoming an avid R/C boat builder and racer, still quick to laugh, and still unwilling to yield an inch in competition. The boats grew larger through the years, as did the circle of those who came aboard to share the view. Doug belonged to the water the way some men belong to the land, sharing his multi-generation passion for boating with his children. A life member of the Seattle Yacht Club and Queen City Yacht Club, and a former Commodore of the Tollycraft Boating Club, he navigated the world by chart plotter, returning year after year to Roche Harbor, Camp Cordero Lodge, and Sullivan Bay, the places where friendships were formed and Hearts remain.
Work was not simply duty to Doug, it was legacy. Raised in the family insurance business founded by his father, C. Don Filer, Doug and his sister Denise helped shape the agency into the respected institution it is today. Through decades of commitment, he earned a reputation as a man whose word was iron and whose leadership was built not on volume, but on quiet conviction. When he was named President, he carried the role with dignity, until a debilitating stroke at age fifty forced his sudden retirement with a life-altering handicap. For twenty more years he endured what most could not, defying medical expectation with his token blue-eyed resilience, supported by the unwavering devotion of his wife and caretaker, Candy.
Together with Candy, his partner in all things, they shared more than fifty years of love, beginning as teenagers and growing into something profound, durable, and whole. Their marriage was the root from which everything strong in Doug's life grew: two sons, Shawn (Elizabeth) and Chris, who carry forward his steadiness and spirit; five grandchildren who brought joy into his room that his body could not leave; and a family bonded not by obligation, but by affection and respect. Doug is also survived by his siblings, Denise Baker (Dave), Paula Congleton (Kevin), Tod Filer (Anne), and Libby Filer, each holding memories of his humor, his work ethic, and most importantly, their mischievous adventures together. In his long post-stroke chapter, he cherished visits from close friends and family, filling his room with stories and the familiar voices he loved. Among them was Rilla Bylund, friend, nurse, and keeper of laughter, whose presence was a gift in his final years.
Doug lived a life anchored in gratitude. He found happiness not in spectacle, but in the gentle satisfactions of hard work and a well-earned life. A boat gleaming under fresh wax, a cold Rainier beer at the end of a long day, and always with Chapstick in his pocket. He gave without expectation, he endured without complaint, and he loved life with a constancy rare in this world.
Those who knew him will remember the blue of his eyes, clear as open water, and the unmistakable sense that you were in the company of a good man. His legacy is not only in the business he built or the voyages logged, but in the lives he strengthened, the family he adored, and the quiet heroism with which he faced difficulty.
Doug Filer lived fully. He loved deeply. And those of us left behind are better for having shared the voyage.
Doug was a man drawn toward motion. In youth he was equally at home in the sky as on the ground, flying small planes, riding dirt bikes, and pushing boats to their limits during his racing years. When fatherhood arrived, he traded danger for craftsmanship, becoming an avid R/C boat builder and racer, still quick to laugh, and still unwilling to yield an inch in competition. The boats grew larger through the years, as did the circle of those who came aboard to share the view. Doug belonged to the water the way some men belong to the land, sharing his multi-generation passion for boating with his children. A life member of the Seattle Yacht Club and Queen City Yacht Club, and a former Commodore of the Tollycraft Boating Club, he navigated the world by chart plotter, returning year after year to Roche Harbor, Camp Cordero Lodge, and Sullivan Bay, the places where friendships were formed and Hearts remain.
Work was not simply duty to Doug, it was legacy. Raised in the family insurance business founded by his father, C. Don Filer, Doug and his sister Denise helped shape the agency into the respected institution it is today. Through decades of commitment, he earned a reputation as a man whose word was iron and whose leadership was built not on volume, but on quiet conviction. When he was named President, he carried the role with dignity, until a debilitating stroke at age fifty forced his sudden retirement with a life-altering handicap. For twenty more years he endured what most could not, defying medical expectation with his token blue-eyed resilience, supported by the unwavering devotion of his wife and caretaker, Candy.
Together with Candy, his partner in all things, they shared more than fifty years of love, beginning as teenagers and growing into something profound, durable, and whole. Their marriage was the root from which everything strong in Doug's life grew: two sons, Shawn (Elizabeth) and Chris, who carry forward his steadiness and spirit; five grandchildren who brought joy into his room that his body could not leave; and a family bonded not by obligation, but by affection and respect. Doug is also survived by his siblings, Denise Baker (Dave), Paula Congleton (Kevin), Tod Filer (Anne), and Libby Filer, each holding memories of his humor, his work ethic, and most importantly, their mischievous adventures together. In his long post-stroke chapter, he cherished visits from close friends and family, filling his room with stories and the familiar voices he loved. Among them was Rilla Bylund, friend, nurse, and keeper of laughter, whose presence was a gift in his final years.
Doug lived a life anchored in gratitude. He found happiness not in spectacle, but in the gentle satisfactions of hard work and a well-earned life. A boat gleaming under fresh wax, a cold Rainier beer at the end of a long day, and always with Chapstick in his pocket. He gave without expectation, he endured without complaint, and he loved life with a constancy rare in this world.
Those who knew him will remember the blue of his eyes, clear as open water, and the unmistakable sense that you were in the company of a good man. His legacy is not only in the business he built or the voyages logged, but in the lives he strengthened, the family he adored, and the quiet heroism with which he faced difficulty.
Doug Filer lived fully. He loved deeply. And those of us left behind are better for having shared the voyage.
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