Stephen Coakley

A Life of Faithfulness

If you woke up early enough, you could hear him before you saw him.

The kitchen light would be on. The coffee - always black - already poured. And, in one particular house, the unmistakable rumble of the trash compactor would roar to life, faithfully serving as reveille for anyone hoping to sleep past sunrise.

Steve Coakley rose early. He believed in beginning the day with intention. "Plan your work and work your plan," he would say - not as a slogan, but as a way of life.

Born on March 23, 1943, in Norwood, Massachusetts, Steve was raised in a tight-knit New England family rooted in faith, service, and loyalty. He was the son of Stephen Oldham Coakley, a World War II veteran, and Helen Frances Coakley. From them he inherited a love of country, a devotion to the Red Sox, and an example of enduring commitment, the kind that lasts decades, not seasons.

At 5-foot-4, he was not physically imposing. It remains a family mystery how someone of that stature became an Army Infantry Officer - until you understand how he approached life. He did not try to be the biggest man in the room. He prepared. He studied. He stood out by being ready. In November 1962, he enlisted in the United States Army, and in December 1963 he was commissioned a Second Lieutenant after graduating from Officer Candidate School - a foundational milestone he would later describe as the cornerstone of everything that followed.

He served more than 22 years on active duty, including two tours in Vietnam. He was awarded the Legion of Merit and three Bronze Stars - one for valor - along with numerous other decorations. He earned the Combat Infantryman Badge and Parachutist Badge. He did not often speak about Vietnam. He carried those years with quiet dignity. But he was deeply proud of his service. For much of his life, he carried a copy of the United States Constitution in his wallet - not as a statement, but as a reminder of what he had sworn to defend.

But he was also a man who would turn his Army cover (that's his hat to you civilians) backward and coast down a hill on a banana-seat bike with his daughter after a long day at the Pentagon - breaking protocol simply because it mattered to her.

After retiring from active duty, he continued serving as an Army civilian and later as a member of the Senior Executive Service for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, completing a 44-year career in service to his country. In March 2000, he was inducted into the U.S. Army Officer Candidate School Hall of Fame. He retired in 2006, closing a chapter marked by discipline, leadership, and the steady practice of taking care of his troops.

But long before the medals and retirement ceremonies, there was a Saturday night in August 1964.

On August 29, he met Ruby Reeves at a party in Columbus, Georgia. He noticed her immediately. Something clicked. He would later describe it as love at first sight. Eleven months later, on July 3, 1965 - in 103-degree heat - they were married. For sixty years, Ruby was his partner in every move, every assignment, every season of life. Their marriage was not flashy. It was faithful.

Together they raised their family in the rhythms of Army life - moving often, adapting quickly, building home wherever they were stationed. In 1978, he was assigned to the Pentagon, and Fairfax City became the longest chapter of their story. They later lived in Purcellville, Virginia, and most recently in Durham, North Carolina.

As a father, Steve was defined by presence. Out of countless sporting events, performances, and milestones, he and Ruby missed only a handful. He required "Yes sir" and "No sir." His children knew how to stand at attention and how to address adults by rank. Yet it was never about fear or rigidity. It was about respect. It was about preparation. It was about understanding that words mean things.

If there is one word that defined him, it was faithful. If there is a second, it was steadfast.

Faithful to Ruby.

Faithful to the Army.

Faithful to his Church.

Faithful to showing up, especially for his children and grandchildren.

He and Ruby rarely missed a game, recital, performance, or milestone. Love, in his life, was spelled T I M E. He spent it wisely.

He ran a 5K alongside his granddaughter in his sixties and framed her race bib as though it were one of his own medals. He kept notes in his phone with the graduation dates of his grandchildren, updating them whenever plans changed. Though highly decorated, he spoke far more about the accomplishments of those he loved than about his own.

He loved baseball and the Red Sox. Having played second base in his youth just like his father, he saw baseball as both pastime and metaphor. One of his favorite principles - borrowed from the field - was simple: always know how many outs there are and what you're going to do with the ball if it's hit to you. It applied equally to combat, to career, and to everyday life. He also maintained that baseball was first mentioned in the Bible … "in the Big-inning" … a joke delivered often and without apology.

He loved the beach. On family vacations, he would rise before dawn and claim a stretch of sand, setting up chairs and umbrellas so that when the family arrived later, everything was already prepared. That was his way: anticipate, prepare, provide - then step back so others could simply enjoy. On vacations, he instituted what became known as "Disney Rules": ice cream at 11 a.m., every day, without exception. Discipline and delight were not opposites in his world.

He loved golf, especially playing alongside Ruby. His single round at famed Pebble Beach with his son was spoken of often.

He laughed easily. He remembered names. He had a quiet charm that made people feel seen.

In his later years, the edges softened. Sentiment surfaced more freely. He allowed himself to be romantic, reflective, and openly grateful for the life he had built and the generations that followed. He took quiet pride in knowing that each generation stood on stronger footing than the one before it, and he knew he had helped lay that foundation.

Steve remained anchored in his Catholic faith throughout his life, serving as an altar boy in his youth and attending Mass faithfully in every season that followed. He prayed the standard Catholic grace at meals - no embellishments, no improvisations - steady and consistent.

That faith shaped not only how he lived, but how he faced life's final chapter.

He was preceded in death by his parents, Stephen Oldham Coakley and Helen Frances Coakley.

Steve is survived by his beloved wife of nearly sixty years, Ruby Coakley; his children, Stephen R. Coakley and his wife, Marge Coakley, and Dyane R. Rice (née Coakley) and her husband, Kirby Rice; his grandchildren, Jordan Nelson (née Coakley), Taylor Wiley (née Coakley), Stephen T. Coakley, Ethan Rice, and Erin Rice; his great-grandchildren, Daniel Wiley, Liam Wiley, Meyer Nelson, and Merritt May Nelson; and his sisters, Faith Mulrooney (née Coakley) and Helen Reagan (née Coakley).

He often closed his reflections by saying he had been blessed.

Blessed in faith.

Blessed in family.

Blessed in service.

Those who knew him would say the blessing was mutual.

He has now headed "upstairs" to be with the Lord, and those who knew him smile at the thought that he did not go up empty-handed.

Our Father

Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name;

thy kingdom come;

thy will be done

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread;

and forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who trespass against us;

and lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

Amen.

A funeral service will be held at 11:00am on Tuesday, March 3rd at St. Matthews Catholic Church, officiated by Father John. Burial will follow in the church cemetery. The family will receive friends at Clements Funeral Home in Durham on Monday, March 2nd from 4:00 to 6:00pm.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made in Stephen's memory to The Liberty Hospice, 3424 N. Duke Street, Suite 201, Durham, NC 27704 (919-471-1368). The nurses and staff provided extraordinary comfort, compassion, and dignity to both Steve and Ruby, and the family is deeply grateful for their care.