All Condolences -

Through this world passes a few people that others don''t understand, Jeff was one of those people. I grew up with Jeff, worked with Jeff even was his boss at one of the jobs he held. So yeah I knew him but like others never really understood the "knack" of his ideas so to speak. But if ya ever needed anything he was there sometimes not whole heartily but there none the less. It is not up to us as to why god takes people when he does. So for now I''ll say R.I.P Jeff free from the burdens of life. We''ll meet again and until then you will now be the Guardian Angel for your family.
— Penny Hough

We''ve had a death in the family. By family, I mean both people who''re related by birth or marriage but also those like me who Jeff Prosser decided - after we''d passed whatever unknowable crucible he''d established in his mind - were family. For reasons many of us don''t understand, his definition of the word "family" extended to include a handful of us who were otherwise dismissed as dross by our own families, or society in general, with few commonalities between us save four our diverse array of psychological and emotional damages. We became a family with Jeff as its nucleus. Many people have arrived on his back porch and introduced themselves and then disappeared back to wherever they came, but on rare occasion, Jeff would speak with you and observe you for all of five minutes and decide, "you''re one of ours, now. Don''t argue the deal''s done. Now come help Trish separate the puggles while we bring groceries in." To this day, none of us understand what set us apart in his mind from any other visitor. Most of us came to him under awkward circumstances - perhaps as an ex of one of his kids, or just someone like me for whom Bradford, Pennsylvania was supposed to be a few days'' pit stop on the way to returning to my home state of Vermont - but found a home with Jeff and Trish and were treated as human beings of value, sometimes for the first time in our adult lives. We just don''t know. What we do know is that, once he''d made his decision, you didn''t ask if you could have a glass of water in his house. He''d look at you as though he''d been stricken with mild heartburn and tell you you knew full and well where the glasses were and to quit asking silly questions. Then he''d ask you if you were sure about the water, because "water" came in two forms to Jeff - soda for mixing with rum, and beer. Convincing him that drinking plain water is something people actually do of their own volition was a constant struggle, because he was genuinely puzzled by it. If you became one of these privileged few, no matter what move you made in life or how adamantly he disagreed with you (or said something to the effect of, "well, they''re on their own now!") he would come to the rescue if you needed help. Three in the morning and your new ex and you had a fight? He came to pick you up, settle a spot to sleep in the front room for you, and all the while muttered vague threats toward the ex more as his awkward effort to comfort you than with any real malice in mind. If finances were tight that month and the cupboards were getting bare and you asked if he had anything extra he could spare until Wednesday''s payday, he would arrive at your doorstep, SUV laden until the brakes groaned in complaint with enough provisions to feed you and your entire neighborhood for a month and a half. "I''ll pay you back" was met with that same surge-of-heartburn expression that made the statement die in your throat before it was spoken in full. He didn''t want to be paid back. You''re one of his, end of story. He taught me to shoot a gun, and spoke both cheerfully about the hobby of target shooting and with grave seriousness about safety. He taught me the single best lasagne recipe in the free world. He tinkered with model trains while listening to the Beatles and Cher on his headset, sometimes singing along with the earnestness you can only find in someone who loves what they''re listening to but is tone deaf as hell. He created a strange, dysfunctional, but utterly wonderful family by sheer force of Jeff. I''ve been struggling with a way to handle this, and I don''t know how yet. Loss isn''t new to me, but this one feels... worse. A big part of the world just disappeared. Something that remains, though, is that sense of family he created. That will not disappear. We may not understand Jeff''s selection process, but it worked. Family. We''re one of those. -Casey La Pila
— Brandy Prescott

Please know your family is in our thoughts and prayers.
— Ken and Peg Miller