Tammy Lynn Carpenter passed away on October 9, 2026.

Tammy was born in San Diego, California, in 1957. Her family lived on El Cajon Boulevard until she was about three months old, then moved to Grove Road, where avocado and orange trees filled the property. When Tammy was seven, the family moved to Phillipsburg, Kansas, where she lived until she graduated from high school in 1975.

Tammy’s first marriage brought her two sons, Chris and Chuck. She married two more times before finding the love of her life in Dean. Tammy and Dean shared twenty years together in the happiest marriage of her life.

Tammy took great pride in her family. Friendly and warm, she brought a happy spirit to her encounters with others. Her purpose in life was to help people in times of need and to see those around her happy.

Her favorite place to be was anywhere with her husband, Dean. They enjoyed exploring Washington together, especially Seattle and Port Orchard. She particularly loved visiting Leavenworth at Christmastime. Her travels also took her to England and several other countries, and she delighted in sharing the details of those experiences.

Tammy loved music, carnations, and the many dogs who were part of her life over the years.

She was preceded in death by her parents, Nona and Byron Miller; her sister, Karen; her nephew, Randy; and many beloved dogs.

Tammy is survived by her husband, Dean Carpenter; her sons, Chris Jermark and Chuck Jermark; her daughter-in-law, Kristy, wife of Chuck; her grandchildren, Kaedra and Tyler; her sister, Myrna; and many nieces, nephews, and cousins.

She will be remembered for her warmth, her willingness to help others, and the love she shared with her family.

Service information will be added when available.

In lieu of flowers, contributions to help Dean and the family with funeral and living expenses would be gratefully appreciated.

~A Letter to Tammy from Dean~

My dearest Tammy,

I won’t call you by your legal name Tamara or I would get that Glare that says REALLY!! I hardly know how to begin, because I never imagined I’d have to write this. I still struggle to believe you’re gone. Sometimes I find myself waiting to hear your voice or see you come through the door. The silence where you once were feels louder than anything I’ve ever known.

You were the love of my life. I hope you knew that, but I want to say it once more. That Badfinger song, "I can’t live if living is without You," expresses what I can’t put into words. I truly don’t know how to live without you, Tammy. You were part of every corner of my life. Still, I’ll try to take each day as it comes, because I know you’d want me to carry on—and because my love for you remains with me.

The happiest day of my life was the first time I met you in Alma, Nebraska. When I got out of my car and reached to shake your hand, I was just trying to be a proper English Gentleman, you said, “Hell with that—I want the kiss I’ve been craving!” Me being a Gentleman didn't help me that time :)

My second-happiest day was when we travelled to Scotland to marry at Gretna Green. We discovered we couldn’t marry until we met the new law requiring a seven-day residency. The change was meant to give parents time to arrive and stop their children from doing something foolish. For anyone who doesn’t know, Gretna Green is where those “stupid kids” ran off to when, as Bruno Mars sang, they “were looking for something dumb to do.”

I told the pastor, “Thank God for that—we have at least another seven days of freedom.” He looked at you, then at me, and grinned: “But that doesn’t mean you, Dean. You’re both old enough, so the seven-day nonsense won’t apply.” I made you smile when I said, “At least we’ll have another seven days of happiness.”

These are the memories I’m holding close now. If I ever failed to tell you often enough how much you meant to me, I’m telling you now: I treasured every step you took, and you made me so very happy to share your life. People often wondered how we managed to go through life without arguing. You would say it helped to have a wonderful partner who loved and cared for you.

I can’t find it in me to say goodbye, and perhaps I never will. Maybe this isn’t a farewell at all, but a promise to carry you with me—in everything you taught me, in the laughter we shared, and in the love that endures even now that you’re gone.

When I come to see you on Tuesday, I don’t know whether I’ll be strong enough. But I’ll come, because you’re worth it, and because I need to tell you once more that I love you.

Rest now, my love. I’ll miss you every day.

All my love, always,

Dean