Birth date: Jul 24, 1970 Death date: Feb 27, 2025
Mr. Raymond Vincent Drury, 54, of Charlotte, passed away Thursday, February 27, 2025. Raymond was a native of Warwick, RI. Ray spent ten of his formational years in Lebanon, NH where he was a successful cross-country runner (which Read Obituary
"Joy. Silly. Hilarious. Generous. Kind-hearted. The ability to make people happy. A bright star. These are just a few of the ways Ramond Vincent Drury has been described this week, and they all ring true.
Family was paramount to Ray, right from the start. He was named after my dad’s brother and best friend, who had passed away shortly before Ray was born. Younger Ray, it turns out, bore that name exceptionally well, inheriting that same fun-loving, ‘out of this world’ personality.
From his childhood in New Hampshire, Ray was a natural entertainer with a kaleidoscope of interests. I remember him drawing us all into his world of juggling, guitar, karate, skateboarding, keyboard, and cross-country running. As he transitioned to college, his love for running grew into a passion for weightlifting. Later in life, he immersed himself in the challenging world of stand-up comedy, and most recently, he found quiet joy in hours of chess with my dad.
Ray was a proud lefty, and it wasn't just a quirk; it was a part of who he was. He embodied the traits often associated with left-handedness: that remarkable intuition, the ability to adapt to any situation, and a knack for seeing solutions others missed. He possessed a true gift for divergent thinking. And just as deeply rooted as his left-handedness were his Northeastern roots. He carried the spirit of New England with him wherever he went, a die-hard fan of the Red Sox, Celtics, and Patriots, through thick and thin. He never forgot where he came from."
I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have Ray and Jen as siblings. They always had my back. The story goes that I was slow to talk because they were so quick to anticipate my every need. The doctor had to tell my parents to make them stop, so I’d finally learn to speak! As we grew older, car rides were a battleground of playful pokes, with me, the ‘Disco Duck,’ caught in the middle. Those moments, that feeling of being anchored between them, those were my guardrails. I will deeply miss being able to lean on Ray's guiding presence.
He was my protector, always quick to rescue me from my own oversteer. And anyone who knows me knows I’m not the best driver. So, having a claims adjuster on speed dial was a blessing. I remember one particular call, after I’d managed to rear-end a police car in our family minivan. When he arrived, he saw a scene strewn with safety gloves on the street and said there wasn’t much he could do for me.
"...And while my driving mishaps were a running joke, vehicle issues weren't solely my domain. Ray, in his own unique way, had his share of vehicular adventures. When he was at URI, he managed to park illegally for an entire semester without paying a single ticket. Now, given that the car registration was in my dad's name, the consequences weren't exactly Ray's to bear. My dad received a rather alarming letter informing him that his license had been revoked in the state. Needless to say, that led to a rather interesting conversation between Ray and my parents! It was classic Ray – a mix of mischief and a certain disregard for the finer details, all delivered with that irresistible charm."
Ray and I shared so many cherished memories. Simple moments like gambling for baseball caps—he had a real passion for unique ones—and going to minor league games. But also, those moments when he was my absolute shield. Like the time we jumped into a lake with crocodiles, and he realized I was struggling to get back into the boat. Or the time my fake ID got confiscated at a bar, and my new leather jacket was stuck to a chair. I’ll never forget him running down the street in Asheville, barstool in hand.
Ray's work ethic was evident from a young age. He saved up for his beloved silver Camaro, delivering newspapers, bussing tables, and even strategically circling my grandmother, who’d generously slip him cash each on each pass.
His generosity shone through then, too. He was always giving to his siblings and friends, and he was deeply involved in fundraising for numerous charities. Professionally, he dedicated his career to helping others as a claims adjuster, assisting those in crisis to rebuild their lives.
Ray had an undeniable zest for life, a life he shared for 26 years with his rock, Traci. His presence in the lives of my daughters and Jen’s sons was a true gift, creating memories that will last a lifetime. And of course, he knew he’d hit the jackpot with our parents, Bob and Rosemary.
Beginning in college Raymond began to suffer with mental health issues which would come back later in life. Ray battled his demons the best he could, while attempting to shield his family from his pain. I hope all of us who have walked with Ray through these struggles will find the courage to forgive themselves for any “should haves” or “could haves” while knowing Ray is now at peace. Honor Ray’s life by running with yours. All of our love may not have been enough to release Ray from his torment, but God’s is enough to allow him peace.
"For anyone here today who understands the weight of a mental health struggle, please know you are not alone. Ray's journey reminds us that even the brightest souls can face unseen battles. If you're carrying a burden, I urge you to reach out. Talk to a friend, a family member, a therapist, or a support group. There is strength in seeking help, and there is hope in every conversation. Please, let today be the day you choose to lean on others, just as we remember Ray's strength, let us show our own."
Our hearts are heavy today. We will miss Ray’s infectious laugh deeply. But let’s not let his passing lead to despair. Instead, let’s use this moment to propel ourselves forward. Let’s remember that our time is limited, and we must live fully. Take time to cherish your family and friends, and never forget to laugh. Live with joy, laughter, generosity, and kind-heartedness. Ray valued connection, found joy in the simple things, and always put a smile on people’s faces.
Ray, you will be forever in our hearts. May you rest in peace."
Siblings are the greatest gift. We love and miss you Ray.
I had the pleasure to work with Ray at Wells Fargo for many years. He always had a smile and was willing to help with anything that needed to be done. He was also a very thoughtful and generous person. When my husband broke his leg in a motorcycle accident several years ago, Ray and Traci brought dinner to our home and visited with us. I’ll always remember him as a a truly kind soul and I know he will be missed terribly by his family and friends. May our loving Savior wrap Ray in a welcoming embrace and grant him eternal peace.
Ray was a wonderful friend for so many years . I am saddened beyond words to hear . He will have a cherished place in my heart and will be so deeply missed. Paul Blaufuss Charlotte NC
Ray was my friend in high school. We played basketball. He found me a job. We ate burgers over dirty dishes, in the high school lobby, and at a bowling alley.
Ray was a basketball visionary. Stepping onto a court with him in the mid to late eighties, you got a crash course in the modern game, twenty years before it got invented. Ray’d wait at the three point. If you laid off him, he’d shoot—and make it as often as he’d miss. If you guarded up, he’d drive—and no matter how you guarded him, he’d chuck up a skyhook that’d bounce high off the glass and fall in. Easy as a layup, for Ray. To Ray, everything was a three pointer or a layup.
Ray got me a job washing dishes. He showed me how to keep up with the dinner rush, how to get your fair share of tips from the waitstaff, how to get the cooks to make you a burger. After work, we’d take our tips and get another at the bowling alley.
My favorite thing about Ray was the stories he’d tell on himself. Waiting for a bus to take us to a ski race, we’d gotten burgers from the high school cafeteria. Ray was eating his outside the front office. A teacher, who was a stickler for rules, told Ray he couldn’t have food in the hall. He walked Ray back to the cafeteria to throw it away. Ray tried to eat the whole burger before he got there. Three bites in, the teacher said, “If you take one more, I’m writing you up for insubordination.” Ray told the story on the bus ride, laughing the whole time, with that Ray-Drury-glint in his eye.
I always thought I’d see Ray again. I thought, the way you do when you’re young, that the universe can’t hurt somebody who can laugh when it tries to teach him a lesson. I always figured we’d run into each other and have a beer—probably a burger, too—and Ray’d tell a story on himself, laughing like he did, with furious amusement in his eyes. With Ray loose in the universe, here’s a little advice: when Ray Drury bets you a burger he can beat you in a game of one-on-one, you’re gonna lose. But you’ll laugh all the way to the bowling alley.
