Donald Braden

We will miss the fun, easy-going presence that Donald Braden brought to the room. His calm and happy nature had a way of making everyone around him relax and lean in. He passed away on May 1, 2026, in Bountiful, Utah, at the age of 74, and left behind a life that was genuinely, quietly full.

He was born at Fort Ord, California, to Zedric W. and Marjorie E. Braden, and raised in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a faith that became a quiet, steady thread throughout his entire life. As a young man, he answered the call to serve, spending his mission years in Scotland, an experience that broadened his perspective and shaped the man he was becoming.

He returned home and married Bianca Arler. Together, they had four children: Danica, Jason, Desiree, and Mariska. In his second marriage, to Darlene Rona, he gained five more children he loved as his own: Summer, Cassidy, Moshe, Jasmine, and Eden. The shape of his family changed over the years, but his pride in each of his nine children and the grandchildren they gave him never did. Stories about his kids found their way into nearly every conversation he had with anyone. He was proud of all of them, and everyone who spent time with Donald knew it.

What defined Donald most was not what he accomplished but how he made people feel. He was genuinely easy and laid-back in a way that had nothing to do with indifference and everything to do with a rare and natural warmth. He loved to be needed. When someone he cared about needed a hand, a conversation, or simply someone to sit with, he wanted to be that person. He listened the way most people only aspire to, quietly and fully, without judgment and without rush. His hugs were the best kind, unhurried and real; they always carried the familiar cologne of Eternity, which was as inseparable from him as his easy smile. He had a comforting presence, and you felt it the moment he walked in.

Donald loved to work. Not for the outcome alone but for the chase itself, for the satisfaction of something new to learn or build or figure out. He had a way with computers, a mind for math, and a poet's instinct for language. He wrote poetry and songs, and he had the entrepreneurial spirit of someone who never stopped believing the next idea could be the one worth chasing. Right up to the end, he still had ideas. He still had enthusiasm. That never left him.

Music and movement were inseparable from who he was. He sang. He whistled. A cheery melody constant in his daily life. The dance floor was home to him. He moved with a natural grace that was impossible to miss, and if you were lucky enough to be his partner, he would sweep you off your feet without hesitation. It is perhaps no surprise that he met both of his wives there.

Basketball had the same kind of hold on him, and it always had. He played his whole life and never lost his love for the game. In his final twelve years he found a home court at the church gym, showing up three to four days a week alongside the same crew who came to know exactly what he brought. He was the oldest man out there by a stretch, but he had a three-pointer that dropped clean and an occasional hook shot that caught everyone off guard. He never stopped showing up.

For the last twelve years, Donald made his home in the separate apartment of his brother, Marty, and sister-in-law, Kathleen's, house. It was the kind of arrangement that works only when the affection is genuine, and between the three of them it was. He had his independence and the comfort of family close by. What he looked forward to most was Sunday dinner. Every week without fail, Kathleen had it ready. He never missed it if he could help it, and he never took it for granted.

His life was built in the day-to-day. Not in grand gestures or big trips, but in work that stretched his mind, music that never really left the room, a basketball court that always had a spot for him, and a standing invitation to anyone who wanted to be around. The chaos of children, grandchildren, and stepchildren never rattled him. It made him chuckle. More the merrier was not a sentiment for Donald. It was a way of life.

Donald Braden did not fill a room with noise or performance. He filled it with ease, with music, with the kind of unhurried attention that made people feel genuinely seen. He is missed in the ways that matter most: in Sunday dinners and three-pointers, in the whistle that followed him through every ordinary day, his patient listening ear, his excitement for a new idea, his warm hugs, and in the scent of Eternity that lingered long after he had left the room.

Donald was preceded in death by his parents, Zedric and Marjorie Braden, and his sister, Lori Ellen.

He is survived by his children: Danica Croy (Brandon), Jason Braden (Hilary), Desiree Renshaw (Ryan), and Mariska Braden; his family through Darlene Taylor: Summer Rona, Cassidy Rona (Laure), Moshe Rona, Jasmine Brundage (Spencer), and Eden Lee (Ryan); his siblings: Catherine Braden, Martin Braden (Kathleen), Cheri Hendry (Chad), Leanna Crocco (Robbie), Trina Cotterman (Brian), and Karianne Parkinson (Steve); and his 19 grandchildren.

One of Don’s favorite sayings was, “So let it be written, so let it be done!”