David Thomas Coomer

On February 15, 2026, the world lost a true original. We lost our father, our grandfather, our friend —and to many, a living legend. David Thomas Coomer lived all eighty years of his life with grit, courage, and a love for adventure that most people only dream about. He did everything on his terms, was almost always larger than the room he was in, and never once apologized for it.

David was born in San Diego, California, and grew up navigating a childhood that would have broken most people. Between foster homes, his mom’s house & staying with his favorite Aunt Nana, stability was something he had to build for himself. He found a brother in Ricky, his foster brother, who would later give his life serving in Vietnam. That loss stayed with David, and it shaped the fierce loyalty he carried for the rest of his life—loyalty to his friends, to his family, and to the people he served alongside.

David proudly served four tours in the United States Navy during Vietnam. To many who served alongside him, he wasn’t just another sailor—he was a war hero. A legend. He carried himself with quiet strength and never needed recognition for the bravery he showed. That courage never left him. It was threaded into everything he did, every risk he took, every life he built and rebuilt.

His professional life was as varied and unpredictable as the man himself. He built Hollywood movie sets. He was a security guard at Universal Studios during its transformation into a theme park. He spent years in the aerospace industry, engineering parts for the Space Shuttle. He was a full-time photographer. He was a slot technician, a stagehand at the MGM Grand, and eventually an underwater diver at Le Rêve at the Wynn. He had a gift for turning hobbies into careers—he started working as a stagehand because his sons acted in plays, and years later that became the work that defined a chapter of his life. He did a lot. And he did it all his way.

David spent much of his life between Los Angeles, and Las Vegas, where he moved with his family in 1993. In 2007 he reconnected with his middle school sweetheart Gloria. They married in 2008 and quickly found their dream retirement in Paradise, California. David and Gloria spent over a decade living out their “dream”. During this time David reconnected with his Scottish roots and his many outdoor loves. That dream was taken away when their home burned in the Camp Fire. Gloria passed away months later in 2019, and David returned to Las Vegas—carrying his grief, but never letting it stop him.

He was a man of deep and eclectic passions. He loved the Green Bay Packers, the Vegas Golden Knights, audiobooks, and road trips—endless, impractical road trips, even when flying made far more sense. He loved guns and shooting, fishing, and gator hunting, even at eighty years old. He was a proud Freemason. And in later years, he reconnected with his Scottish heritage—joining the Masons, wearing his kilt with unmistakable pride, and once posing with tourists in Scotland as if he’d been born there. He was so happy in that kilt.

David traveled a lot during his life. His younger years as a sailor brought him to exotic locales all over Asia. This area of the world never left his heart. When raising his children in Los Angeles David brought them often to Las Vegas. He didn’t always admit it, but Vegas was a part of him. As he got older he also traveled quite extensively, taking cruises, falling back in love with diving, visiting old friends and trying to make sense of the rapidly changing world. David’s dreams of where the next trip would take him were neverending.

In his later years travel was a small part of his life, but it had an enormous impact. He had always dreamed of eating a baguette along the Seine in Paris, and when that moment finally came, he never stopped talking about it. He returned to Hong Kong decades after serving there, and sat quietly in his hotel room staring out at Victoria Harbour, taking it all in. If there was an adventure to chase, he was already packing. If there was a story to tell, chances are he had lived it. He was an enigma.

David was Jewish. He converted when he was younger, raised his children in that faith and carried his Judaism in his heart for the rest of his life. It was not something he performed. It was something he lived—quietly, sincerely, and with conviction.

But what made David truly special wasn’t the adventure. It was his heart. Despite the instability of his own childhood, he constructed a family and blessed it with endless love. He was the father of four—Apryl, Robert, Joshua, and Shawn—and the grandfather of fourteen, with one great-grandchild. He took the time to connect with each of his children and grandchildren in their own way, grasping onto their interests and meeting them where they were. His grandkids didn’t just love him. They adored him. They saw his kindness, his humor, his steadiness, and his larger-than-life spirit.

He showed up. He showed up for friends. He showed up for strangers who needed help. He showed up with advice, strength, or just his presence when someone needed support. He kept friendships for decades—real friendships, where he stayed in touch, remembered what mattered, and genuinely cared. His connections were not casual. They were lifelong. His sense of humor was often over the top and wildly inappropriate. If you got it, you loved it. If you didn’t, he didn’t care. That was David.

In his later years, his body slowed down—carrying the weight of a life well lived and the toll of a war that never fully let him go. But his spirit never did. He still dreamed, still laughed, still showed up. Family and friends were everything to him. He was truly happy with the life he built and lived.

To us, he was more than a father. He was a man with a good heart, a benevolent soul and a spirit unique to this earth. He taught us what it meant to work hard, to be loyal, to be generous, and to stand by your family no matter what. His strength runs through us. His love binds us. His legacy lives on in his children, his grandchildren and his friends.

• • •

El Malei Rachamim

A Prayer for the Soul of the Departed

ֵאל ָמ ֵלא ַר ֲח ִמים, ׁשֹו ֵכן ַּב ְּמרֹו ִמים

O G d, full of compassion, Who dwells on high, grant true rest upon the wings of the Divine Presence, in the exalted spheres of the holy and pure, who shine as the resplendence of the firmament, to the soul of David Coomer who has gone to his eternity, for charity has been donated in remembrance of his soul; may his place of rest be in the Garden of Eden. Therefore, may the All-Merciful One shelter him with the cover of His wings forever, and bind his soul in the bond of life. The Lord is his heritage; may he rest in his resting-place in peace; and let us say: Amen.

• • •

We love you, Dad.

We will stay close. We will carry you with us always.

✡

Zichrono livracha — May his memory be a blessing.