Birth date: Aug 9, 1950 Death date: Mar 27, 2026
Harry Lloyd “Hap” Davis, 75, passed away on Friday, March 27, 2026 at his home in Leesburg, VA after a 5 year battle with pancreatic cancer. Harry was born in Fort Meade, MD on August 9, 1950. He was the oldest of three children. Read Obituary
I am a former employee of Harry’s favorite coffee shop, and he is a much-missed presence in Leesburg. His kindness, steadiness, and resilience (especially during his struggle with cancer) was a daily encouragement to those who saw him around town. He was soft spoken about himself, but the community told many stories of his kindness, neighborliness, and generosity. I’m thankful to have known him.
Even in sickness, Harry had a way of making me smile.
As a caregiver, schedules can change in an instant. One evening, while on my way to an event, I was called in to cover a colleague’s shift and care for Harry. We sat together at the kitchen table—he was eating, and I was making small talk—when he suddenly looked up and said, “Were you on your way to a date? You look like it.”
I smiled and assured him that I wasn’t. Still, he gently apologized, concerned that his need for care might have disrupted my plans.
In that moment, it was clear who Harry was. Even while facing his own challenges, he remained thoughtful, attentive, and deeply considerate of others. He noticed the little things. He made people feel seen. And somehow, even in difficult circumstances, he brought lightness and warmth.
Though I didn’t know him for long, it was unmistakable—Harry was one of the good ones.
He will be deeply missed by all who had the privilege of knowing him.
Even in sickness, Harry had a way of making me smile.
As a caregiver, schedules can change in an instant. One evening, while on my way to an event, I was called in to cover a colleague’s shift and care for Harry. We sat together at the kitchen table—he was eating, and I was making small talk—when he suddenly looked up and said, “Were you on your way to a date? You look like it.”
I smiled and assured him that I wasn’t. Still, he gently apologized, concerned that his need for care might have disrupted my plans.
In that moment, it was clear who Harry was. Even while facing his own challenges, he remained thoughtful, attentive, and deeply considerate of others. He noticed the little things. He made people feel seen. And somehow, even in difficult circumstances, he brought lightness and warmth.
Though I didn’t know him for long, it was unmistakable—Harry was one of the good ones.
He will be deeply missed by all who had the privilege of knowing him.
