David Jeffrey "Jeff" Swanson

David Jeffrey Swanson - known effortlessly, universally, and forever as Jeff - left this world on December 4, 2025, at home in Overland Park, Kansas, in the presence of his devoted wife, Sherri Swanson, and his daughter and pride of his life, Hannah Swanson. True to his lifelong comedic timing, he did not simply "pass away", as he would've said with a grin, he blew this joint.

Born on October 17, 1954, in Kansas City, Missouri, he made Merriam and Overland Park shine brighter simply by existing there.

Jeff is survived by the loves who shaped his world and the ones he shaped in return: his wife Sherri; his daughter Hannah; his mother Beverly Jo Hedquist; and his brother Mike Swanson (Susie). He is also survived by countless friends, neighbors, honorary nieces and nephews, and anyone lucky enough to have crossed his path even for a moment.

To describe Jeff merely as a husband, father, son, brother, or friend is to miss the mark entirely. He was the room-lightener, the midnight-snack companion, fishing companion to Mike and his deceased brother: Jim Swanson, and being a man who could fix anything with his hands and soften anything with his humor. He was a phenomenal guitar player, a quiet philosopher, a goofy dancer, and a true gentleman. He was the kind of man who listened well, laughed deep, and in his own words always reminded us in hard times, "It'll pass."

Jeff could turn a living room into a concert hall and a stranger into family. He was known for his uncanny ability to make everyone feel important, seen, and welcome. Whether on the porch talking to neighbors, driving his family through the mountains of Colorado, serenading by the fireplace, or having tea parties with Hannah in her childhood, pink plastic teacups and all, he made love look effortless and support look like the easiest thing on the planet.

He loved deeply and without reservation. He loved his wife with devotion, his daughter with tenderness, his family with loyalty, music with soul, and his community with generosity. Being a father extended far beyond biology for Jeff, he quietly and consistently showed up for those who needed him, whether they carried his last name or not.

Even in his battle with Lewy Body Dementia, Jeff remained: wise, sarcastic, empathetic, and still somehow the funniest person in the room. His bravery was patient, sometimes exhausted, always loving. He taught his family that humor belongs even in the darkest hours, and that the soul is far stronger than the body that carries it.

Jeff didn't fear the transition of life; he simply moved rooms. And because energy cannot die, his laughter, his warm guidance, and every "dad joke with perfect timing" now echo just beyond sight. He is here, in every song, every porch light left on, every joke that lands exactly when we need it.

A Celebration of Life will be held in his honor at a later date. Jeff would insist it be filled with music, good snacks, and at least one person attempting his legendary dance moves.

He was, and remains, a hero - not because he tried to be one, but because he lived with humility, humor, kindness, and love. If the world had more Jeffs, it would be softer, warmer, and infinitely more fun.

As we grieve, we remember what he taught us:

Life breaks, love holds, and eventually… it'll pass.

And in Jeff's final punchline, delivered with a wink from the other side of the veil: He has officially left the building.

Written By: Hannah M. Swanson ("Favorite" Daughter)