It is with great sadness that we announce that our beloved mother and grandmother, Jaqueline “Jackie” Marie Rayan, 90, passed away peacefully on Friday, Sept. 25, 2026, under hospice care at her daughter Heidi’s home in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. She was surrounded by family, and every one of her five children was with her — some at her bedside, the rest on the phone when she passed.
She was born on June 9, 1936, in Ellensburg, Washington, to Al and Helen Nielsen, the second of their four children. She grew up in Ellensburg on a potato farm, and in 1966 she moved with her new family to Rochester, Washington, which would be home for the next 50-plus years. In her last few years she lived in Tumwater and then Hattiesburg, with her daughter Heidi and son-in-law Patrick Thompson.
Jackie raised her five kids largely as a single mom, often working two or more jobs at a time to keep food on the table. Over the years she worked everywhere from Briarwood Farms in Rochester to Quali-Cast in Chehalis. Retirement didn’t take. She went back to work for Express Employment Professionals and kept working until after her 83rd birthday — sitting still was never really her thing.
However long her workday, Jackie was always in the middle of her children’s lives and activities. Mom was always involved in school activities and sports, taught Sunday school and was the President of the Larch Mountain Little League. Her door was open to their friends, too, and there was rarely a stretch of years when she wasn’t giving a home to at least one young person who needed one. Her house came to be known, with real affection, as “Jackie’s Home for Wayward Boys.”
Not that the wayward boys got off easy. Our mother had no patience for nonsense, and her own sons — who could generously be described as feral — supplied plenty of it. When their antics crossed the line, she let them know, loudly, at a volume that no kid within earshot ever forgot. It earned her the title of “the Old Buzzard Lady,” or “the Buzz” for short, and the name stuck. Many times we uttered the phrase, “Quick, hide the smokes (or whatever other mischief we were into at the time); the Buzz is coming!”
Behind the Buzz was a woman with an enormous heart. Our mother was a tireless worker, a reliable confidante and someone whose moral compass always pointed true. She was kind, generous, full of faith and loved people for who they were. She had a wonderful sense of humor, a warm and hearty laugh and never took herself too seriously, which is probably why she embraced her “buzz” moniker and wore it like a badge of honor. Mom was an avid reader and burned through books, often reading the same book multiple times. It would not be uncommon to find her sitting in her chair reading anything from Robert Patterson to Danielle Steele. Her kids, and plenty of kids who weren’t hers, knew that whatever trouble they were in, she was a safe place to land — even if they’d hear about it first. Her patience with the antics her children put her through is beyond admirable, even legendary to those who knew her. Mom was quite simply adored by her children, grandchildren, friends and family and will be missed every day.
Jackie is survived by her five children: Albert Christopher Rayan of Rochester, Washington; Joel Andrew Rayan of Tucson, Arizona; Todd Stuart Rayan of Tumwater, Washington; Heidi Larie Thompson of Hattiesburg, Mississippi; and Hollie Marie Harris of Lacey, Washington. She also leaves behind nine grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren, and her siblings, Ruth Muller of Lake Forest Park, Washington; Gerald Nielsen of Wenatchee, Washington; and Marcia Olander of Orting, Washington. She was preceded in death by her parents, Al and Helen Nielsen.
A memorial service will be held at Sticklin-Brown Chapel on Saturday, Nov. 14, 2026, at 11 a.m. A reception will follow at O’Blarneys in Centralia from noon to 3 p.m.
Please do not send flowers. If anyone is inclined to make a gesture, please donate to any charity you believe Jackie would have supported.
The Buzz has flown on. She will be missed every single day — and somewhere, a wayward boy is finally sitting up straight.
