A traditional obituary for Jimi Hendricks might read something like this:

James R. Hendricks, 62, passed away on Friday, November 21, 2025, after a battle with cancer.

Jimi was born on March 16, 1963, in Washington, D.C., to Diane Hendricks Bitsberger and Captain William R. Hendricks.

He is survived by his beloved wife of 34 years, Daphne; his children, Sara, Anna (Micah Schumaker), and Michael (Lucy Mulligan); his mother, Diane Hendricks Bitsberger (late Rev. Donald Bitsberger); his father, William Hendricks (Susan Hendricks); his sisters Laurie Howell and Shari Dow (LJ Alefantis); and countless other friends and family members who miss him deeply.

Jimi graduated from Wake Forest University in 1985 with a degree in economics. His creative mind informed every part of his life—from his nearly 35-year career at Freddie Mac and Wells Fargo, to the songs he wrote and performed with his band, Face the Fish, to the real estate portfolio he built with uncanny vision and enthusiasm. He was well known throughout Vienna, Virginia, for his volunteer work, from serving on the Town of Vienna Planning Commission to coaching youth basketball and volleyball.

Jimi will be remembered for his quick wit, intelligence, kindness, and dependability. If he said he’d do something or be somewhere, he would.

This is all true. But Jimi would have rolled his eyes (lovingly, but still) at a “normal” obituary. He did not care for artifice and despised being the center of attention—unless, of course, he was performing on stage at a sold-out show, quite literally at the center of everyone’s attention. It’s a contradiction, but that was Jimi: not complicated, but complex in all the ways that mattered.

He loved so many things: his family; his enviable number of decades-long friendships; crafting delicious meals for said family and friends (never the same thing twice—cooking, to him, was jazz: instinctive, improvisational, guided by his ability to forage ingredients and find inspiration in whatever happened to be in the refrigerator); 700-page books in tiny print and of obscure subject and origin; travel; interrupting conversations with a joke so clever you couldn’t fault him for making you lose your train of thought; and the beach, especially at sunrise or sunset, rarely when the sun was at its height. There were only a couple of things he truly could not stand: politicians and sellouts. (So, maybe just one thing.)

Also, attention. Jimi did not seek it out (that is, except for all the times he did), but everyone who met him remembered him. This is a rare feat, though Jimi made it look easy. This may have been due to his iconic dance moves—that cannot be described with words so much as they must be imitated with one’s whole body—or the original lyrics he wrote. It may have been his ability to pull knowledge about anything, no matter how surprising, or simply his buoyant, quietly hilarious presence that allowed him to connect with anyone.

The sadness we all feel now is a reflection of the generosity with which Jimi gave himself to the world. There’s no one like him, and the world is a far less interesting place without him.

A celebration of Jimi’s life will be held on Saturday, December 20 from 11:30am to 3:00pm at Jammin’ Java in Vienna, Virginia. His family invites everyone who knew him to come and share their favorite memories.

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