Junius "Terry" Cornell

In Loving Memory of Junius "Terry" Cornell

December 21, 1962 – October 29, 2026

Junius "Terry" Cornell passed away on October 29, 2026, leaving behind a family full of love, countless stories, and cars that probably would not have kept running without him. Born on December 21, 1962, he had big hands, an even bigger heart, and a way of making the people he loved feel welcome just as they were.

He was preceded in death by his parents, Junius Arnold Cornell and Agatha Minola Cornell (Green), and his brothers, Steve and Billy. He is survived by his four sisters, Lynn, Susie, Dolly, and June (Richard); his seven children, Christy (Richard), Teresa (Kenny), Terri (Shannon), Amanda (Tony), Wendy (Donnie), Jordan and Brianna; 17 grandchildren; and more nieces and nephews than a few lines could ever do justice to.

Over the years, he worked as a painter and wallpaper hanger, in tree removal, at an auto parts store, and as a tow truck driver before going on disability. His jobs became part of the family’s stories: his older children remember rides in the van perched on paint buckets that did not always stay put, and weekend trips up in the bucket truck when he worked in tree removal. His family suspects tow truck driving was his favorite, not just for the work, but because he could bring the people he loved along. So many of us have a memory of riding beside him.

He loved fishing; whether from a bridge at night, at a lake, or somewhere reached by sneaking through a field and bending the rules a little. If there were fish to catch, he was willing to find a way.

He was the family mechanic, always ready to help get a car running again. The repairs usually came with plenty of fussing, especially when his huge hands had to fit into spaces clearly designed for someone else. But underneath every grumble was the same thing: love. Helping was how he showed it.

Children had a special place in his heart, and a trip to the convenience store with him was never just an errand. It was an opportunity to spoil someone. From penny candy in the early years to chocolate milk, sodas, and Slim Jims later on, he was the fun one who bought whatever we wanted.

He loved with everything he had. He was not one to judge, and he would give or help in any way he could. He never had a lot, but he shared what he did have. His generosity was limitless; his wardrobe around the house was considerably more limited. Underwear was his preferred lounging attire, and visitors, even those meeting him for the first time, were not necessarily a reason to change. With him, you truly got a come-as-you-are welcome.

There are more stories than we could ever fit here, and more love than words can hold. We wish we had more time with him, especially more time with him healthy and able to do the things he loved. We will miss his big heart, his fussing, his generosity, and the simple joy of being along for the ride.

He gave us so much of himself. We will carry that love, and those stories, with us always.