Douglas "Doug" L. Riley

Born December 15, 1945 in Enid, Oklahoma, Doug Riley arrived in this world as the first of the Riley boys, much to the delight (and eventual exhaustion) of his proud parents Ivan and Venetta Riley. He left us after 79 unforgettable years, with a legacy too big for just one small town, though his spirit always remained a small town boy, deeply and faithfully planted.

To know him was to know a man of unwavering values: he loved Jesus, a champion of family, and a proud American. Before he became Dad, Papa, or “the man who could fix anything with duct tape and a look,” he was a high school football captain, a small-town hero with a heart big enough to take on the world.

He proved that when he joined the Navy’s Sea Bees and completed not one, not two, but three tours in the jungles of Vietnam. Yes, three. Not because he had to, but because that’s what true grit looks like. He came home a Veteran of War and started his most important mission: raising a family with Mary Riley, his wife of 57 years, his partner-for-life, and the woman who somehow managed to keep him grounded (or at least close to Earth).

Their three children, Yvette Wolf (College Station, TX), Michael Riley (with wife Tonya; also from College Station, TX), and Melissa Maier (Rantoul, IL) inherited their dad’s fierce loyalty, knack for sarcasm, and appreciation for a well-timed eye roll (maybe that part is from Mom). The grandkids: Caitlin, Courtney, Matthew, Cheyenne, Landon, Meara, and Micaylee were his pride, his legacy, and likely the cause of at least one pulled muscle. The great-grandsons, Mason, Beckham and Jaxon, brought him the kind of joy that only little feet and sticky fingers can bring. They also brought noise…glorious, blessed noise.

He joins his brothers Larry and Terry and his parents, already surely organizing some celestial family reunion, probably involving a grill. He leaves behind his wife, his children and their families, his sister, in-laws, nieces, nephews, and countless others who were lucky enough to orbit his world.

Professionally, he was a talented welder and engineer who could read blueprints like bedtime stories and built several grain elevators in his life. Starting at 14, he was already driving around semis for his dad, and later retired from Frito-Lay where he made not just chips, but life-long friendships.

He traveled the world with work, and once retired, hit the road with Mary in their RV. From coast to coast, Alaska to Key West, he marveled at this country’s beauty, his favorite adventures told through gas station snacks and late-night campfire talks.

He loved solving puzzles and problems. Not just the strategy kind, but the kind that involved knowing just the right thing to say to make you pause, laugh, or think. He was clever, quick, and disarmingly charming. His kids and grandkids attempted to outsmart him, never quite reaching that top ring. Teaching his kids to drive stick-shift was an act of patience and bravery that likely started his hair thinning.

And in the later years, when dementia tried its best to dull the sharp edges of his mind, he still found comfort in the dust and honor of the Old West. Westerns became his quiet companions. Those black-and-white shows with cowboys riding tall, keeping order with a code of loyalty and grit that felt like home. Even when words failed, the spirit of the South and the steady justice of the frontier still spoke to him. It was in those moments we were reminded: though he couldn’t always say it, the fire was still there.

How do we say goodbye to someone like that? We don’t.

We tell his stories. We laugh at his jokes that we aren’t sure are really jokes, is he serious? We pass on his wisdom. We tip our hats when we hear the National Anthem and offer a hand when someone’s struggling. We solve the riddles, teach others to drive stick, and never, ever forget that life is meant to be lived boldly, loyally, and with just the right amount of sass.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was ours. And that made him perfect enough.

So here’s to a life well lived, a man well loved, and a goodbye we’ll keep putting off for as long as we can.

Rest easy, Dad. We’ll catch you at the next campfire.

Funeral service will be 10:00 am Thursday, July 24 at First Pentecostal Church in Bryan. Visitation will be one hour prior to service time at the church. Interment will be 3:30 pm Thursday at Greenview Cemetery in Brashear, Texas.