David Elmore Smith Jr.

David Elmore Smith was born on October 20, 1976, and passed from this life on September 11, 2025, at the age of almost 49. His life was not easy. He carried a lot, but he kept trying. Stubborn and funny, David loved his family, friends, and pets with all his heart. Everybody knew his struggles because he didn’t hide them—that was David. He showed us that courage isn’t about being perfect, but about falling down and standing up again.

The fact that David passed away so unexpectedly is a testament to his relentless will. For nearly five years, he endured challenges that would have stopped most people long before. From December 2020 onward, David battled bedsores that went down his spine, survived COVID-19—twice—suffered pneumonia, graduated from hospice care at one point, and endured kidney stones along with countless other health problems. Despite being confined to bed, he still managed to lose over 200 pounds. By the time of his passing, David was excelling in physical therapy and, for the first time, was beginning to stand on his own again. His trainer, Robert Reames, even said that David would be walking out of the assisted living center by Christmas. We want to be clear: it was David’s body that finally gave up one random morning—not David himself.

Many remember David from a TLC show, where he shared his journey with the world. With trainer Chris Powell, he lost almost 400 pounds and later worked with Robert Reames. Both encouraged him through the hardest times.

David will be remembered for his warmth, his long late-night talks with friends, and his one-of-a-kind sense of humor. He loved messing with his nieces Katelyn and Karissa—pretending to be the ice cream man, pulling pranks, and just being silly. Behind the jokes was encouragement; David always supported the people he loved. In his final days, he said he wanted to make it to Karissa’s wedding. Though he couldn’t be there in person, his spirit surely will be.

His playful side shone from a young age. One memory Kellie carries is from when she was 15 and David was just 3. While their mother, Sheryl, was giving birth to Jennifer, Kellie asked David if he wanted to go for a “joy ride.” It didn’t get far—Kellie crashed into the carport, ran over the BBQ, and took down a chain-link fence. Once the dust settled and they realized they were both okay, little David clapped his hands and said with excitement, “Yay, let’s do that again!” That was David—mischievous, full of life, and ready to turn even a crash into a moment of laughter.

He also loved simple adventures close to home. With his nephew Ray and his sister Jen, David would explore the cornfields by their house, wandering to a small dumping site hidden in the field where they would hang out and shoot BB guns. He also spent time helping Jen look for frogs in the drainage ditch—small moments of childhood mischief and wonder that became treasured memories.

David wowed his cousin Shauna when they were teenagers with late-night half-court free throws at the Houston Elementary basketball court. Almost every night, a group of teens family and a few of his friends would walk up to the court together to play.

Sports and long drives were joys in his life. He loved to watch games with his dad, their voices carrying through the house as they hollered and rooted loudly for the Cardinals or the Diamondbacks. Most of all, he and his father, David Sr., cherished their long car rides together. Going town to town brought joy to them both, and those drives became a collection of cherished memories they shared side by side. With his sisters, especially as a brother, he could be bratty and teasing, but the love was always there.

Animals held a special place in David’s heart. His beloved cat Ozzy or Ruby the dog would be beside him on his bed. He had a soft spot for every creature that crossed his path.

Family was everything to him. David is survived by his father, David Elmore Smith Sr.; his stepmother, Gemma; his sisters, Kellie Smith and Jennifer Smith; his nieces and nephews, Katelyn and her husband Felix Mueller, Karissa Valles and her fiancé Dan Jones, and Ray Valles and his wife Kristina; his beloved cat Ozzy; his uncle Michael; and his aunt Yvonne. He also cherished his cousins, including Shauna and David Welch, and was surrounded by countless friends who loved him dearly including but not limited to Jackie McCarthy, Wendy Clark, Chris Powell, Robert Reames, and Jesse Saperstein—friends with whom he could talk long into the night.

One memory stands out from July 2025: when Katelyn and Felix’s flight was delayed, it gave them one more day in Arizona. They visited David and shared a hug—his last hug with them. That extra day turned into a gift beyond measure, a final reminder of the love he carried and gave.

David’s life was hard, but it was real. He laughed loud, loved big, and never pretended to be something he wasn’t. He fell, he got back up, and he kept going. He had a soul that surpassed the body—one that reached beyond his struggles, carried him further than flesh could, and lives on in all who loved him.

Now David is at peace in heaven, reunited with our mother, Sheryl Lynn Smith; our grandparents John, Betty, and Cecil; and other loved ones who went before him. In his final illness, David said that his great-grandmother and Grandma Joyce were by his bedside. We believe they returned to guide him home. Until we all meet again. Your wings were ready, but our hearts were not.

When David first went to the doctor, they took his blood and discovered he had a severe infection. They told him he needed to go to the emergency room right away. I drove him there myself. This was during the height of the Corona virus, and the hospital looked like a war zone—tents outside, refrigerator trucks lined up, and staff rushing everywhere.

They took David inside, but I wasn’t allowed to go in because of the coronavirus. I believe the hospital suspected he had COVID, especially because he weighed over six hundred pounds. But what he truly had was a serious blood infection. He was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit, placed on a ventilator, and sedated for three weeks.

I wasn’t able to see him until he finally received a bed inside the main hospital. From there, he was eventually sent to a skilled nursing center in Mesa, Arizona, where he stayed for about six months. After that, he developed a bad kidney infection and was hospitalized for a week. When he was stable, they transferred him to the Osborn Skilled Nursing Center in Scottsdale, Arizona. He remained there for about four and a half years.

Over the five years David spent in skilled nursing, he was hospitalized four or more times—mostly for kidney issues and respiratory infections, especially pneumonia which he had several times. He was bedridden for nearly five years. But in the last six months of his life, he began improving. With help from the staff, he was able to get into a wheelchair. He worked hard in physical therapy and lost two hundred and fifty pounds. He could finally sit and stand with assistance. His biggest goals were to walk out of the nursing center and to see his niece walk down the aisle for her wedding in December 2025.

During those five years, I visited him five to six days a week. Every time I came, I brought him iced tea or iced coffee. We also spoke on the phone two to three times a day. The day before he passed, I wasn’t feeling well, so I didn’t go see him—but we did talk over the phone. He didn’t sound sick or like anything was wrong. We were both night owls, and we usually stayed up late. When I didn’t hear from him that night, I texted him at 3:09 a.m., asking if he was awake and to call me. I didn’t hear back, so I assumed he was sleeping and planned to call him in the morning.

He passed unexpectedly between three and four that morning.

During his years in the nursing home, David often had days where he felt good, followed by days of severe pain. I became used to the pattern—if he felt good one day, he would usually be in terrible pain the next. He battled COVID twice, suffered from severe pneumonia, kidney issues, and sepsis twice and many other health problems. Yet through all of it, David always believed he would walk out of that nursing home someday.

David had many friends there—both staff and residents. He knew almost everyone by name. After he passed, the nursing home held a service for him. They told me they had never seen a service where almost everyone showed up—staff and residents alike—to pay their respects. That was the kind of person David was: likable, memorable, and loved.

He was almost 49 when he passed. He accomplished so much in his short life and touched countless people. Even though he lived in pain, he still lived every day with hope.

When he died, I was very angry. He fought so hard for five long years, all for the chance to walk out of that nursing center one day. I’m past the anger now, but I miss my son every single day.

I know one thing for certain: David would want you to hug your child or your loved one and tell them you love them.

Signed,

David Smith Sr.