Birth date: Sep 4, 1960 Death date: May 26, 2026
James “Jim” Richard Tweed II, 65, passed away May 26, 2026 in West Valley City, Utah. Jim was born in Salt Lake City, Utah to James and Barbara Tweed, and was the third of 7 children. Jim graduated from Brighton High School in S Read Obituary
Jim was more than a friend to me—he was family. One of the greatest gifts of my life was having him by my side, especially during the times when I needed him most.
When my wife passed away and my children and I were facing a loss that changed our lives forever, Jim was there. He didn't need to have all the answers or know exactly what to say. He simply showed up, and that meant everything. His friendship, support, and presence helped carry me through some of the darkest days I have ever known.
Years later, when I reached a point where I was ready to move forward with my life and open my heart again, Jim was there then too. As always, he was there with conversation, encouragement, and support. Through every chapter of my life—the difficult ones and the joyful ones—Jim was a steady friend I could count on.
When I got remarried, there was no question that I wanted Jim to be one of my groomsmen. In true Jim fashion, he managed to get the wedding date mixed up and showed up a week early. Instead of being a problem, it turned into one of my favorite memories. We spent that unexpected week doing what we always did—talking, laughing, catching up, and enjoying each other's company. And of course, whenever we got together, there was usually a cigar or some good pipe tobacco involved. Some of our best conversations happened with a cigar in hand and time slowing down just enough to enjoy the company of a good friend.
After Jim left, my wife said something that has stayed with me ever since: "Now I know why you two are so close, and I can see what a good person he is." That was Jim. It didn't take long for anyone who met him to understand the kind of man he was.
Jim was the kind of friend who could go months, or even a year, without seeing you, and when you got together again, it felt like no time had passed. The conversation would pick right back up, the laughter would return, and you were reminded of just how special his friendship was.
One memory that perfectly captures who Jim was happened while we were both in Afghanistan. We discovered that we were stationed just a few buildings apart without even realizing it. When we finally figured it out, it was simply, "Damn, let's get together." That was Jim. No matter where life took us, somehow our paths crossed again, and he always made it feel like we had just seen each other yesterday.
It seemed that no matter where you went, you would run into Jim or meet someone who knew him. Whether you were across town, across the country, or halfway around the world, Jim had a way of connecting with people and building friendships that lasted. He never met a stranger, and people were drawn to his genuine nature, his sense of humor, and his caring heart.
The impact Jim had on my life, and on the lives of so many others, cannot be measured. I will always be grateful for the friendship we shared, the memories we made, and the support he gave me and my children when we needed it most.
Jim leaves behind a legacy of kindness, loyalty, friendship, and love. He will be deeply missed, fondly remembered, and forever carried in the hearts of those who were fortunate enough to know him.
Rest easy, my friend. Save a seat, light a cigar, and we'll catch up again someday.
Hello Toni,
Thank you for letting me know that. I cannot make it to Jim’s funeral, as I live in South Africa and simply cannot find a way to get there in enough time. The best I can do to honor Jim is let people know how I saw him. As I reflect on my memories of Jim, one story stands out above all the others because it reveals something profound about the kind of man he was.
Many of you know that Jim and I served together as instructors at Fort Eustis. During that time, we also served alongside a man named David Degrave. Jim and Dave were best friends—nearly inseparable, really—and I want you to understand why.
While we were stationed together, Dave and his two children experienced a tragedy that no family should ever have to endure. One evening, Dave and his wife went to bed as they had countless times before. They were lying there talking when she suddenly stopped responding. In an instant, Dave lost his wife, and his children lost their mother.
Most of us cannot begin to imagine the weight of that kind of loss.
When tragedy strikes, people tend to fall into one of two groups. Some step forward immediately with condolences, meals, and words of comfort. Others freeze. They don't know what to say. They don't know what to do. The pain is so overwhelming that they become afraid of saying the wrong thing, and they keep their distance.
Jim belonged to neither group.
Jim lived in that uncomfortable gray area where there are no answers, no words that can make things better, and no way to fix what has been broken.
He simply leaned in.
He refused to leave Dave alone with his grief.
Day after day, he stayed by his side. He sat with him. He listened. He distracted him when he could. He carried some of the weight when it became too heavy. Other than going home to sleep, Jim spent as much time as possible making sure Dave and his children were not facing their darkest days alone.
When Jim would come back to our apartment in the evenings, I would ask him how his day had been or what he had been up to.
His answer was always simple.
"I was hanging out with Dave."
But the truth was much bigger than that.
Jim may not have had the perfect words to tell Dave how sorry he was. He may not have known how to explain a loss that defies explanation. So he did what he always did when people needed him most.
He showed up.
He was present.
He gave the quiet, unwavering support that Dave desperately needed.
In the Army, we often talked about doing the right thing even when nobody is watching.
Jim didn't just believe that principle—he lived it.
There were no awards for what he did. No recognition. No audience.
Just one man choosing, every day, to stand beside a friend who was suffering.
That was Jim.
He was the best friend anyone could ever ask for. He had your back no matter what, and especially when it mattered most.
Looking back now, I think that may be one of the greatest measures of a person's character: not how they behave when life is easy, but how they show up when life becomes unbearable for someone they love.
Jim showed up.
And he never stopped……
