David Miller


David Miller passed away on October 2, 2022, an otherwise delightfully warm and sunny day, while engaged in one of his favorite activities: working in his yard and enjoying time with our family in Edmonds, Washington.

He was an extraordinary human being with a head full of baseball stats, a heart full of love for his family, an unerring eye for art, and loads of talent at the ends of his fingertips.

image of David and Kim MillerHe was always the art director—the job boss on our mutual landscaping jobs and the site manager when I (his wife, Kim) was learning the ends and outs of remodeling a new home. He was also the note taker and instructions reader when we were learning to care for a newborn.

I think his proudest, most happy moments were the years he spent with our son, Matt, during the “little league” phase of our lives in the Pacific Little League. I cooked hot dogs at the “snack shack,” and David kept meticulous records on batting order and the kids’ stats. I never understood the passion with baseball (including the old Negro Leagues, the Kansas City Royals, and the Seattle Mariners), but I was glad he had it and got to enjoy it with his son.

He was the consummate perfectionist when it came to creating anything, whether it was an airbrushed illustration for work, a piece of furniture he was hand-building, growing the perfect lawn of green, luscious grass, collecting music (and vintage bobbleheads…and duck decoys…and old comic books), and making the perfect CD for Christmas. It was always perfectly done. (Yes, perfection was a constant theme!)

He was a talented chef and would spend a lot of time cooking perfect scrambled eggs for his granddaughter Noah, because she thought his eggs were the best. Then he would put extra work into whipping up her chocolate milk. He started the made-from-scratch breakfast tradition with our first granddaughter, Mason, when she was very young. This was their special Saturday morning activity together. She would sneak into the bedroom and wake up “Papa” to come make pancakes. I hope these special memories survive as they get older.

image of David and NoahI know he passed on his good intentions and ethics to Matthew. He was so proud of the father Matt has become. David’s grandkids were the light; he was drawn to them like a moth.

I think one of a million things we will miss most is Christmas morning and David Miller’s infamous stockings stuffed with all the goodies he had collected throughout the year. Christmas will never be the same without him playing Santa. He loved to give presents and shopped all year not just for gifts but for perfect gifts. We could not wait for “the stocking moment” after the shredding of packages was done. The stockings were the “thing.” No matter how many times I said, “We don’t need anything, let’s not buy too many gifts,” that was NOT his way.

He had a long career in the newspaper industry, including work at the Kansas City Star, Denver Post, San Jose Mercury News, and The Seattle Times. For the last many years he was the creative director for The Seattle Times’s Pacific Magazine. He was an airbrush illustrator, graphic designer, and writer.

This piece summing up his work there touched me deeply: David Miller, a beloved Seattle Times art director, dies at 67 | The Seattle Times.

David is survived by his wife of 31 years, Kim Carney, his son and daughter-in-law, Matt and Bri Miller, his two much loved granddaughters, Mason and Noah; his sister, Kate Nelson, in New Mexico, and brother, Barry Miller, in Kansas.

Whenever we faced a challenge, David would assure me, “It’s going to be okay.” That has become my mantra these last few weeks as friends, family, and colleagues have reached out to me. This loss is huge. But it’s going to be okay. Know that David’s favorite flowers were in his beloved yard, and his heart would want you to be generous to those who might go hungry tonight. If you feel called to do something in his memory, please donate to the Edmonds Food Bank.

We will be announcing a date for his Memorial in mid-November here soon.

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