Michael-Jones-Obituary

Michael Richard Jones

Port Angeles, Washington

December 4, 1947 - April 30, 2014

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Port Angeles, Washington

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On December 4, 1947, Mike was born in Port Angeles to Richard and Olive (Tiller) Jones with his older sister, Marie, to greet him. He remained in Port Angeles his entire life and attended Port Angeles schools, graduating in 1967. After high school, he served in Vietnam from 1968 through 1969 as...

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I am sad to hear of your passing. It seems just too early and too many fishing trips and stories cut short. You were a decent sort and someone everyone looked forward to seeing and exchanging pleasantries. We were within just three days of sharing the same Birthday and it saddens me to see one of our generation pass. You will be missed and you were appreciated. We all know your in a wonderful place..

He will be missed. His laugh, his stories, his caring. He is now fishing and hunting in the great beyond and we are sure that God has already been taken along for a limit. We shall miss you buddy. Love, Terry and Kae

Will miss running into Mike when I'm on the mainland and hearing how dear his family and grand babes were and that wonderful smile that always warmed my heart and of course that laugh. Fish and hunt on Mike you were a true man Liz Startup Rychlik and Family

Beautiful memories of a loving friend will remain in my heart and mind forever.

I am so sorry for your loss. I will always miss him coming into my work and seeing his smile. I have waited (as a hostess) on him for about 3 years now. Every time him and his family would walk in the door I always was glad to them. I am pleased to have gotten to know him. With all my love, Jamie

My prayers goes out to Linda, Tonya, Kelsey, and the rest of the family. Mike truly will be missed.

My Uncle Mike was a great man. He had an infectious laugh and was a born story teller. Even as a small child I was drawn to his charisma.
He taught me a lot, how to shoot, how to play Cribbage, how to live without regrets, and to laugh as much as possible, I'll miss him every day until we meet again but I like to think he, his father, and my father are all somewhere casting a line on a still lake just before sunrise.