Jareth King

Today, we gather with broken hearts and heavy spirits to celebrate the life of Jareth Clay King—a son, a brother, a friend, a proud Cherokee man, and a light that always tried to make us laugh, even in the darkest moments.

Jareth was born on March 17th, 1994, and from the start, he had that special spark. He was the jokester of our family—someone who could transform a serious moment into a lighthearted one with a clever remark or a well-timed dad joke, often at my expense. But that was Jareth; he simply wanted to bring joy to others. He simply wanted to elicit laughter from others. But that was Jareth—he just wanted people to smile. To laugh. To feel a little bit lighter after being near him

He was a self-proclaimed nerd, and he was proud of it. Whether he was diving into the world of Harry Potter or powering up with Dragon Ball Z, Jareth immersed himself in the things he loved. He didn't just collect figures and memorabilia—he collected stories, details, and lore—and he was always eager to share them. If you gave him five minutes and even a hint of interest, you'd walk away knowing far more than you expected about wizards or Saiyans. And you'd be smiling, because that was the effect Jareth had.

He was quirky. Ornery. Kind. Loyal. He was always willing to be a friend to anyone. He just wanted to be seen, and I know, without a doubt, that he was seen—and loved—deeply. He loved being where people were. Whether it was family gatherings, community events, or simply hanging out with friends, it didn't matter. If there was a group, Jareth wanted in. With a big, goofy smile and his phone ready for a selfie, he had a way of making people feel like they belonged. He wanted to be a YouTuber—He had all the ideas in the world but just couldn't settle on one. That was Jareth, too—always dreaming, always imagining.

He was the oldest of three brothers, with an older sister, Keana, who loved him dearly. Gunnar Blade and Ayden Nathaniel looked up to him, and he was there for them, just like he was there for all of us—his dad, his family, and his friends. He had our backs, and he knew we had his.

Jareth lost his momma, Emma Lou Cooke, in 2020. That loss never stopped hurting. And while today we grieve that he's gone from us far too soon, we take comfort in knowing they are together again—where he always said he wanted to be. My heart is shattered. I will greatly miss our conversations, his laughter, and the way he would call out, "Hey Pop!" to capture my attention. I love you, son. And until I see you again, may you rest in the joy and peace you always tried to give to others.