Jafar "Aziz" Abbasnejad

In Loving Memory of Jafar Abbasnejad (“Aziz”)

Jafar Abbasnejad—known to his family, friends, and all who loved him as “Aziz,” the beloved—passed away peacefully in his sleep on Saturday, January 3, 2026, after a battle with cancer. He was 84 years old. His wife of 35 years, Prof. Julie Kailin, was by his side.

Born in 1941 in Bojnurd, Iran, to Rajab Ali and Mahvar Mian Abbady, Aziz grew up in a large, close-knit family. He was one of six children and is survived by his sister Munir Abbasnejad, his brother Habib Abbasnejad, and many nieces and nephews.

Aziz was a man of uncommon breadth and quiet mastery. He earned an engineering degree from the University of Southern Illinois at Carbondale, yet chose a life defined not by corporate ambition, but by craft, integrity, and purpose. A true polymath, he was a skilled tradesman and an engineer in both training and instinct. Deeply knowledgeable about history, philosophy, and culture, he carried and imparted wisdom shaped over thousands of years—often quietly, through conversation, example, and teaching. He pursued knowledge with discipline rather than ego—cooking with precision, immersing himself in music and mathematics, building and repairing complex systems, and later in life taking up drawing and visual art. These were not casual hobbies, but practices shaped by rigor, care, and mastery.

He lived with a profound sense of responsibility—to his family, his community, and the natural world. A devoted steward of land and animals, Aziz believed in living gently, thoughtfully, and with accountability. Animals were drawn to him, responding to his calm presence and the quiet respect with which he moved through the world.

Though he had no biological children, Aziz was a father in every way that mattered. He is survived by the “children of his heart,” Syovata and Kimanzi Edari, and by their children—Emayu, Solomon, Yazmin, Nialah, Razia, Jahsiah, and Layla—who knew his presence as steady, loving, and deeply formative. To them, and to many others, Aziz was a teacher as much as a caretaker—sharing historical knowledge, moral clarity, and a worldview grounded in responsibility, justice, and care for the world.

Aziz inspired others without seeking attention. Soft-spoken by nature, he spoke only when something meaningful needed to be said—and when he did, people listened. His influence came not from volume, but from example.

Because Aziz never sought recognition, much of what he gave went unnamed. He was quietly responsible for systems that worked, problems that never escalated, traditions that endured, and people who thrived because someone steady was always there. His labor—emotional, intellectual, practical—formed a foundation others stood upon, often without realizing it.

He found joy in enduring rituals shared with his wife Julie: hiking at Devil’s Lake with their grandchildren, presiding quietly as the household head chef over meals shaped by their shared love of food, politics, and culture, and taking nightly walks to watch the sun set over Lake Mendota, often with Solomon and Emayu. Together, they created a home that became the family’s central gathering place. His signature tahchin—saffron-infused chicken and rice—defined the family table, and his reverent use of Persian saffron fostered a deep familiarity with its depth and fragrance. Years later, that early relationship with saffron found expression in a chocolate tribute developed by his daughter Syovata through CocoVaa, a family-owned business he helped inspire and was deeply proud of, which carries his legacy forward.

A gentle giant, Aziz was also a man of conviction. He remained intellectually engaged with world events until the end of his life. When diagnosed with cancer, he made a deliberate decision to refuse medical intervention, choosing instead to pass naturally at home, on his own terms. He lived—and died—with dignity, clarity, and an unwavering insistence on autonomy.

Aziz possessed a generous sense of humor and a deep appreciation for both life’s quiet moments and its great passages. He placed others before himself—quietly, consistently, and without expectation of return.

He departed this world as he lived in it: peacefully, intentionally, and surrounded by love, family, and tradition, in a final act of self-determination.

He was—and will always remain—deeply beloved.

Please share your memories at www.cressfuneralservice.com

Cress Center

6021 University Ave. Madison

(608) 238-8406