Clifford Ray Smith

It is with heartfelt sadness and love that we share with you the passing of Clifford Ray Smith (74 years) to his eternal home in Heaven on November 17, 2024 . Clifford was born on December 21, 1949 to Harold and Nancy Smith in Nashville, TN and grew up in Lubbock TX. He graduated from John Marshall High School in Oklahoma City, received his Bachelors in Business Administration and an MBA, both at UALR. He also earned his CPA. He served in the U. S. Navy for seven years, which included service on the USS Bancroft submarine where he was a Submarine Nuclear Propulsion Plant Operator-Reactor Control. After discharge he worked for 30 years for the City of Little Rock as Internal Auditor.

Clifford was preceded in death by his parents, Harold and Nancy Smith and his sister, Cheryl. He is survived by his loving wife Judy, son Clayton Smith (Stephanie), step-son Paul Rankin (Lisa), step-daughter Kelly Williams (Jeremy), sisters Sharon Steidle (Ken) and Melinda Wood, and grandchildren Eliza Smith, Kennedy Rankin, and June, Solomon and Thatcher Williams, numerous nieces and nephews, and his very best friend and brother, Todd Mead.

Nobody could ever deny that Cliff was a deeply loved man. He was a son, husband, father, grandfather and friend who embodied characteristics as seen in any heartfelt holiday movie. With never an objection, he spent most of his vacation days taking aging parents,

Harold and Nancy and sister, Cheryl, to various appointments, and took his father to out of state Marine Corp activities. When his parents died, he assumed responsibility for overseeing all aspects of Cheryl’s final years at an independent living facility. You can see from these few examples what a devoted family-oriented man he was. On more fun endeavors, he delighted in going to important events in the lives of his grandchildren.

A few years after retirement, he and Judy approached a huge life transformation when he was diagnosed with stage four cancer, which he handled with grace and courage. There was never a word of anger or complaint, but just a strong desire to “get on with this” and do whatever was needed to give him more time to spend with his wife whom he adored, and his family. With wonderful healthcare and perseverance he was able to stretch the one to six weeks that was predicted to six years of life. He and Judy were able to start working on his bucket list in between his treatments. They were able to make much loved camping trips with friends and visit many National Parks. It seems like he was living for his last lovingly-planned vacation as he began a sharp decline a few weeks after their return. On his last day he wanted Judy by his side and as he released his hold on life he passed with her arms around him.

A memorial service will be held at Lakewood United Methodist Church in North Little Rock on Saturday, November 23, 2024, from 10 a.m. to noon.

A MESSAGE FROM CLAYTON:

Over the weekend we had to say goodbye to my dad, Clifford Smith. Six years ago he was given weeks to live, and for six years he kicked cancer’s ass and traveled, played, sang, savored, loved, and lived with vigor. When I was a baby, he served on the USS George Bancroft. As a kid, he loved to respond to my submarine questions by alleging the information was top secret, even though it was readily available in Tom Clancy books. He was invited to apply to NASA, but after years under the sea he’d had enough time away from home. He could build, take apart, rebuild, and fix anything. I had no experience with contractors, repairmen, or mechanics until adulthood. He taught himself computer programming in the early years. I held a grudge after he convinced 10 year old me to use my many months of saved allowance on a Vic 20 computer instead of Jetfire (the coolest Transformer ever). He later fixed Jetfire’s arm after my cousin broke it off. His friends rightly joked about him being an adult Boy Scout. He gave me the strong moral compass that I have tried to instill in my daughter. Do it right the first time even if it’s difficult or inconvenient. Knowing the right thing is easy, but doing the right thing is the measure of your character. But I still sometimes say “can I” instead of “may I” and I often don’t turn off the light when I leave the room. He was a good man. He was dearly loved. He will be greatly missed.

Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace

Psalms 37:37

“What we once enjoyed and deeply loved, we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes a part of us."

Helen Keller