David Ray Henson

David Ray Henson of Blytheville, AR, passed away at the age of 64 on Thursday, January 14, 2021. He was preceded in death by his parents, Lyman and Virginia Henson.

David is survived by his children, Annie Joy (Brian) Dickerson and Joshua David (Miranda) Henson; his grandchildren, Abigail Rae Dickerson, Ellie Drew Dickerson, and William Lyman Henson; and his brother, Kelton (Gail) Henson.

When the big tender soul of David Ray Henson leaves this earth there aren’t enough words to properly honor him and the extraordinary, beautiful adventure he called life.

So many people have reached out to say how my Dad touched their life and the moments and memories they will cherish. He was a friend to many and had an easy way of being a friend to everyone.

In the heartfelt messages we have received, I have heard many describe David Ray as larger than life, a kind and sweet soul, fun, entertaining and a genuine, good friend. Many said he made them feel like family. A complex, creative and gentle man. One of a kind. Easily remembered and not easily forgotten. Whether you knew him briefly, or forever, and no matter how long it had been, the memories were fond.

He certainly crossed the paths of many along the way. Growing up in the small town of Blytheville, Arkansas, he was proud of his family and its history. The family farm, Number 9, became his home for many years as he farmed cotton on the land owned by his father, Lyman Henson, and grandfather, Stanton Pepper, before him. In a small town, it’s easy to stand out and he certainly did.

When I was little, he founded a divorce recovery group at the Lutheran church in Blytheville to help other adults and families coping with divorce. During this time, he felt a calling to become a preacher and continue to help. Surprising to those who knew David later in life. He left Blytheville in the early 1990’s, packed and came to St. Louis and applied to the Lutheran Seminary program. They told him he should finish his college degree first, so he enrolled at Webster University.

As he was taking classes, he started working for a local advertising agency. I remember as a child helping to put these tiny flicker disks on a large sign to advertise for a local car dealer.

And so it began, that his way with words and way with people led him to start his own advertising agency in St. Louis, DAMY Media and Marketing, with his partner and best friend, Amy Rhoads. He used to say he was still preaching just to a different audience.

His work at DAMY and the many people he met during that 15 plus years was his proudest success. The ads he placed on behalf of local businesses were as large as he was, including giant billboards around St. Louis and the country that stood out with extensions and add-ons – one had spinning helicopter blades flying on the top.

His clients were his friends and became his family. As he continued to cross the paths of so many in business and life, he made a new home in St. Louis. He was a fan of our many winning sports teams and all that the city had to offer to a small-town farm boy. He saw it all and did it all. As kids, Dad took us to the St. Louis art museum, the Arch, the science center and the zoo. As adults, we went with him to every Cardinals playoff game, concerts, sporting events. Any significant event in St. Louis, he was likely there.

He loved St. Louis but never forgot where he came from. He went home to Blytheville often to visit his dad, our grandfather Big Daddy. And every summer we went home for the King Cotton and George Teal golf tournaments at Blytheville Country Club. My husband Brian and then our daughter Abby came to love these trips too. We would hop over to Memphis at night and do our annual stops at the Peabody Hotel first for drinks, then to Rendezvous for ribs and then over to Rum Boogie on Beale.

My brother, mom and I came to St. Louis a few years after dad when I was twelve. My parents wanted Josh and I to be closer to my dad – a gift I will always cherish. Josh and I both later worked for the ad agency and loved having our dad with us every day for those years. We learned so much from him and still today Josh and I both work in advertising and public relations. He was a mentor, the fun dad and also our best friend.

David Ray ran hard in life. Worked hard, played harder. He lived in every single moment, maybe to a fault. There were lines at the bar for palm readings, possibly his best sales trick. Every day was a party and he was the host.

Dad was very proud of his sobriety. He got sober seven years ago on my Abby Rae’s birthday, February 23. Until his stroke five years ago, he went to his morning meetings every day, found peace and not surprisingly another family of friends.

The golf course was his true sanctuary. So many rounds of golf and drinks with friends and family. Golf connected him to his father, his son and God.

When I think about David Ray the man, the father, and my Daddy, so much more comes to mind.

He was a devoted, present father. We knew he adored us and was proud to be our dad. I can’t think of a single important moment of my life where he wasn’t present. Every milestone, every happy and sad time, he was there. Despite being miles away for years as a child, every other weekend, mom and dad met halfway from Blytheville to St. Louis so we could be with our dad. Many long miles on that road, but we mattered enough to him. At my wedding, my divorced parents held hands and sat together. Every birthday, funeral, party for either side of any family, he was there.

Nine years ago, I had my second daughter Ellie. Within weeks, we were at Children’s Hospital facing a very difficult time. When we walked into the emergency room with her the first time, I looked over and my dad was already there sitting in the ER waiting for us. For many days that year, we were in the hospital with Ellie. And every morning, Daddy would show up first. Bright and early with hot coffee for me. Some of those nights were hard and I would watch the clock in the early hours of the morning waiting for him to come back. And there he was, present, every day, with exactly what I needed.

The greatest gift of David Ray was his presence.

He was present in every moment for every person. He had a gift for reading people. To see what they needed to say. To know what they needed to hear. He gave you the space, in each moment, to just be. To be honest with him and with yourself. To be who you were, without judgement. You were important in his presence.

With David Ray, you were given understanding and a gentle ear. I told him many times, Dad, you are really good at giving advice. Not so good at taking your own advice.

He said every person is worth 1.000. No more, no less. That God doesn’t make us a single decimal point more worthy than another person and he doesn’t allow us to be worth any less.

He would play this game called “guess how much I love you.” My Abby Rae would say “thiiiis much” with her arms open wide. He would hold his fingers close together and say you are worth “this little much, but it’s pure.”

Pure, unconditional love is hard to come by. When I think about the world we are living in right now, we could certainly use more of that David Ray kind of love. For every human being to be worth no more and no less.

I wish he had taken his own advice. My dad seemed to always be searching for his way. He was a man with a giant presence in a room. But inside was the soul of a tender-hearted little boy. He made others feel worthy and I think that was his way of loving that little boy too.

He knew he was imperfect and saw imperfection as beautiful in others. I remember getting a B in a high school class and I called my dad upset. He said, I’m coming to pick you up and take you to dinner to celebrate. I didn’t think this was cause for celebration. He said, congratulations, you are human like the rest of us. Be there soon to get you.

I have no doubt he loved me, my brother Josh, my mother, his family, her family, his friends, his clients and every single person he met. It was easy to know you were loved unconditionally by him. I have no doubt he has left a giant impression on the people who were lucky enough to know him.

What I have doubted, and hope to lay to rest with him now, is that he knew how much he was loved.

Daddy, I hope now that you have a better view and greater perspective from up there, you can see the gifts you gave us. I hope you know we will honor you forever by sharing the gift of our presence and a pure and gentle love for one another.

David Ray, DRH, Daddy, we will love you always and it’s pure.

Play pretty and hit ’em straight on the golf courses. And if you don’t mind, once in while, send some of that joyful love back to us. Until we all get to heaven, Godspeed.

Love…always,
Annie Joy

Memorial contributions in David’s name may be made to St. Louis Children's Hospital.