Cheri Theresa (Sweeney) Eaton, 63, long-time resident of Poulsbo, WA, unexpectedly passed away on February 16, 2022. She leaves behind three daughters and five grandchildren- Natalie Gradisar (Korbin & Kylie), Dr. Emily Gradisar (Benjamin), and Hannah Redacted (Johnjakob & Sadie), as well as her parents, seven of her eight siblings, and uncountable people whose lives she touched.
Cheri lived a ridiculous life. Her adventures included underground backgammon tournaments in her youth, working as a chef and as a school bus driver, starting an organic microgreens farm, founding the Poulsbo Farmers Market, raising 3 deeply willful daughters, leaving roughly 1,000 coffee cups on top of her car (and subsequently losing them), and most recently, working towards an accounting degree.
She was a talented chef who taught her children the way of the knife, for the low cost of great mental anguish and two antique Griswold skillets. They can all cook, but also have a deep hatred of the phrase ‘mise en place’. A PlAcE foR EVerYthInG, ok Mom, we got it. During the holiday season, she could often be found under the dining room table giggling profusely after taste-testing a few too many of her famous rumballs or homemade Baileys. Her daughters also inherited her acute sense of timeliness, which is why this obituary is being published two months after her passing.
Cheri loved The Beatles, in a borderline obsessive way. On a visit to Liverpool, she was so excited about sitting in The Cavern Club that she cried into her pint at 3pm, to the deep embarrassment of her middle daughter. That made the experience even better (for Cheri), since deliberately embarrassing her daughters was her main form of exercise.
She was a delightful disaster of a human being, and we loved her.
Memorial service potluck to be held June 11th, 11am at the Coral Shelter in Seahurst Park, Burien. All are welcome. Obnoxious and bright clothing requested. In lieu of flowers, please embarrass someone you love in public.
“It’s not a weakness to see the good in people”.
