Obituary
James (Jay) Albert Edwards, Jr.

On the night of September 11, 2025, James (Jay) Albert Edwards, Jr. peacefully went home to be with the Lord. It was on this day, 16 years earlier, that his father, who shared the same name, also passed.

Jay was born in Burlington, NC, on October 6, 1960. He was raised in the nearby Village of Alamance, in a small home that had once been a barn for curing and drying tobacco. One of five children, he was known for his playful sense of humor and gift for working with his hands. As a young boy, he found joy outdoors—riding his pony, playing cowboys with his brother, or roaming through junkyards. Mischief sometimes got the better of him, occasionally tempting him to climb the town’s church tower and ring the bell for fun.

Alongside his playful nature, Jay remained deeply rooted in his Christian faith, finding comfort and strength in the Southern Baptist churches of his childhood. Life wasn’t easy for him or his family—scraping by to make ends meet took a toll. And yet, even amid hardship, he knew—deep in his bones—that God loved him. It was in a country church, surrounded by raised arms and the sound of familiar hymns, that he asked Jesus to enter his heart. Even as a teenager at Southern Alamance High School, he didn’t leave home without a little black Bible in his back pocket. When he strayed from his faith years later, God’s call would guide him back home.

His early instincts to build and fix naturally led him to work under the hoods and on the bodies of cars with his uncle, Harold Terrell, famously known as “The Motor Man.” Jay quickly mastered the craft of bodywork and paint, spending late nights in dusty garages with a paint gun in hand—his relentless work ethic fueling an insatiable drive for perfection. His friends jokingly called him “OK Jay” for “Overkill.” Good enough was never enough. For Jay, only the best would do. Whether it was a classic restoration, a race car, or a custom bike, he became known in the car community for work that spoke for itself.

In early 1979, just days after his high school sweetheart, Cathy Hiles, accepted his marriage proposal, Jay was crushed between a truck and a loading dock. He clinically died twice before undergoing open-heart and exploratory surgeries. It wasn’t until twenty years later that he learned the blood transfusion he received unknowingly carried Hepatitis C.

On November 24, 1979, Jay and Cathy married. Exactly one year, one month, and one day later, on Christmas Day 1980, they welcomed their first child, Catherine (Cathy) Laura. Their second daughter, Christina Marie, was born on March 31, 1984, but tragically passed away just one day later from an infection. Crystal Ann arrived on Mother’s Day—May 10, 1985—and 15 months later, on August 18, 1986, Cynthia (Cindy) Leanne was born.

Jay poured his pride into work and family. After years of commission jobs at dealership body shops and weekend side gigs, he opened Highway 54 Body and Paint. The same exacting standards he held in the shop, he carried into his parenting—teaching his daughters that completing gritty, thankless work, like hours of weed-picking under the summer sun, was a practice in resilience.

Jay had a gift for making people laugh—not for attention, but to remind others not to take life too seriously. He loved harmless pranks, like wrapping bricks as Christmas gifts for his siblings, or getting down on one knee to deliver roses to his daughters in front of their middle school class. Often the life of the party, his humor disarmed people—but it was his raw honesty that made them open up. He could name hard things without flinching, which made others feel safe to do the same.

Jay was remarkably resourceful—turning scraps into things not only useful, but often beautiful. He was emotionally fluent: strong yet unafraid to cry, tender yet grounded. But beneath his strengths were deeper struggles: perfectionism, fear of not having enough, and pushing himself past limits. He was young and inexperienced, with a growing family, limited resources, and more pressure than he knew how to carry. He was seeking relief, and after one drink—like many in his family—alcohol claimed him. He spent years wrestling with its merciless grip—cycling between sobriety and relapse.

While his marriage to Cathy came to an end, he found love again with Dawn Pollard, whom he met while working at Rick Hendricks Chevrolet. They married in June of 1997. He cared for and loved her two children, Kristan and Michael (Todd), like they were his own. And on March 3, 2000, their daughter, Jami Lynn, was born. He eventually returned to the rhythms of prayer and worship, and the emptiness he once drowned in drink was finally filled with the love of God. He never returned to the bottle again. Not by sheer willpower, he insisted, but by surrender. “It’s not me,” he’d often say. “It’s God.”

Sobriety brought peace—but not the absence of pain. Eventually, the delayed effects of his old blood transfusion—Hepatitis C—began to surface. The flare-ups left him exhausted, his body aching and uncooperative. He also suffered from severe chronic pain caused by an on-the-job accident. And, around the same time, his marriage to Dawn came to an end. And yet, even when he felt at his lowest, Jay gave what he had. He shared his story with addicts and alcoholics. He supported mission trips. He called his children daily, often leaving voicemails ending with, “I love you the mostest.” He used to say his greatest spiritual work was learning how to get out of his own way and let God move through him—and it was no small thing to witness. Jay was love in motion.

He always dreamed of owning land in the country—something lasting, something for his children. He believed deeply in the kind of peace that only solitude and open sky could bring. In time, he made that dream real: a plot of land on a hill, dotted with over thirty pecan trees. He filled it with goats, chickens, rabbits—often buying new animals just to see the joy on his grandchildren’s faces. They played in a small scrap-metal junkyard, hunting for treasures. He built playhouses and pens from discarded materials—restoring old tractors and lawn mowers the way he’d once restored cars. He lived simply and purposefully. Always outdoors in overalls and boots. Always tanned from the sun and calloused from work.

In 2022, Jay was cured from Hepatitis C, but in December of that same year, he was diagnosed with ALS. His once country-boy southern accent became slurred, and not long after, he lost his ability to speak altogether. When swallowing became dangerous, his love of seafood, especially crab legs, was no longer an indulgence he could enjoy. And yet, for years, he continued to live independently: driving himself to church, tinkering in his junkyard, and serving others when they needed a hand.

He taught himself how to speak through an iPad and feed himself through a tube. The illness took much from him, but not his love, nor his will. In hospital rooms and clinic halls, he lit up the space with fist bumps, wide grins, and a laughter that, though voiceless, could still be heard. His nurses and doctors didn’t just care for him—they cared about him. They saw what everyone close to Jay knew: that even as his body broke down, he kept getting up—and lifting others up with him.

It is fitting that he lived his final days surrounded by the family that survives him, including daughters and sons-in-law: Cathy (Cat) Edwards, Crystal Hawks, Matthew Hawks, Cindy Ramsay, Burke Ramsay, Jami Wood; grandchildren: Sebastian Ruterbories, Mary Ramsay, James Ramsay, Nora Hawks, Hazel Hawks, Della Mae Wood, and Oliver Wood; siblings: Jane Honeycutt, Johnny Edwards, and Loretta Watkins; former wives Cathy Milich and Dawn Edwards; stepchildren, their spouses, and children: Michael (Todd) Pollard, Jr., Jessica Wiggington, Michael (Trey) Todd Pollard III, Kristan Michelle Pollard Lee, Phillip Lee, Robbie Lee, and Makenzie Lee; countless nieces, nephews, cousins, friends, and young men who considered Jay their chosen dad.

Jay is reunited in peace with those who passed before him, including his parents, Laura Electra Edwards and James Albert Edwards, Sr.; his sister, Rebecca (Becky) Rollins; and his infant daughter, Christina Marie.

Jay was a man who had known brokenness—but also redemption. Pain, but also deep, abiding love. He lived honestly, humbly, and by his values. He’d give the shirt off his back without a second thought, and he never needed much to be happy. He found peace in what he had, not in chasing what he didn’t.

He became close friends with both of his former wives. He fixed what was broken—engines, fences, relationships. People were drawn to his warmth, his humor, his kindness. He wore ripped clothes and a long beard not out of carelessness, but because appearances never mattered to him. What mattered was who you were on the inside. He didn’t judge or reject. He welcomed people as they were.

And through all of this—through the pain, the rebuilding, the laughter, and the daily faith—he taught everyone around him what it meant to live with open hands, a generous heart, and a soul that chose love, every time.

More than anything, Jay was devoted—to his children, and to God, who never let him go.

One theologian once wrote that God haunts man “with a love that runs after him, pulls him out of the pit, casts aside his chains, and places him in the freedom of the divine.” Jay has that freedom now.

A church service will be held on Sunday, October 5 at 11:00 am, followed by a tribute at 12:00 pm, at Hico Baptist Church in Graham. Memorials in Jay’s honor can be made to Hico Baptist Church at PO Box 934 Graham, NC 27253.