Joe Xavier Lucero

Joe X. Lucero, a beloved husband, father, and veteran, passed away peacefully on April 12, 2026, in Broomfield, Colorado.

Born on April 7, 1952, Joe was the son of the late Joe Lucero and Mary Lucero. He grew up attending schools in Eaton and Antonito, Colorado, before pursuing higher education at the University of Colorado.

A proud veteran, Joe served his country in the United States Air Force. He was honorably discharged on December 13, 1973, carrying the values of service and dedication with him throughout his life.

Joe’s greatest legacy is his family. He is survived by his devoted wife, Doreen Lucero; his loving children, Tanner Lucero of Broomfield, CO, and Amber Lucero of Westminster, CO. He also leaves behind his siblings: Judy, Mary Ann, JoAnn, Gabe, and Jeanette, along with a host of numerous nieces, nephews, and great-nieces and nephews who will miss him dearly.

His memory will be cherished by all who knew him.

The Life and Legacy of My Dad

Dad was a man of immense quiet strength the kind of person who didn't need to complain because he was too busy building, gardening, or taking care of the people he loved. He was the "anchor" of our lives: respected, unwavering, and possessing an iron will paired with a tender heart.

A Foundation of Resilience

Dad’s story began with a rough set of cards, but he never allowed those hardships to embitter him. Instead, they served as the forge for his character. One of the most poignant glimpses into his youth is the memory of him and his sister, Judy, holding hands while ascending the concrete steps of St. Clara’s Orphanage. In those early years, they were each other’s hope. Because of where he started, Dad never took a "better life" for granted. He simply put one foot in front of the other, turning his early struggles into a foundation of safety and stability for the family he would eventually build.

The Great Builder: Family & Service

Dad’s greatest accomplishments weren't just the things he fixed or the necklaces he crafted, they were the values he instilled. Through his military service and his role as a husband to Doreen and father to Tanner and Amber, he led by example. He was a provider in the truest sense not just of things, but of strength and love.

He was famously easy-going, finding his greatest joy in the simple act of being together. He looked up to his family as much as we looked up to him, measuring his success by the happiness of his children.

Passions: From Mountains to Gardens

Dad was a man of "doing," and his creative spirit evolved with the seasons of his life:

His Younger Years: He was an artist and a bit of a rebel who "challenged the system." He loved the freedom of the mountains, fishing, and tinkering with his first truck, which once inspired a legendary "happy jig."

His Later Years: He found his sanctuary in the garden. Spring was his favorite season because it meant he could put on his gardening clothes and get to work planning his yard and bonding with the porch bunnies.

The Gift of Presence

Dad had a strong presence that managed to be simultaneously commanding and gentle. His mood noticeably lifted when he was surrounded by friends and family for him, a "friend for life" was the only kind of friend there was. He thrived during the holidays—Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the 4th of July—or any Sunday afternoon spent cheering on the Broncos. These moments were his ideal life.

Words to Live By

If Dad were here to offer one last piece of advice, his words would be simple and profound:

"Take care of your loved ones, and that will make you happy forever."

He taught those around him that worry was unnecessary and that happiness was a choice one should make "all of the time." He showed us that a good life isn’t about what you have, but who you are looking after.

Continuing the Legacy

Though Dad is no longer here to tend his garden, cast a line, or fix a broken hinge, his spirit is woven into the lives of everyone he touched. We honor him by finding joy in simple things, staying resilient in the face of hardship, and, above all, taking care of one another.

Rest easy, Dad.

Funny inspirational story

My dad didn’t just believe in the power of the mind, he lived like he was holding the remote control to reality. He had this saying, delivered with a dead-serious look while tapping his temple: "I could walk through that wall right now if I wanted to. It’s just a matter of will power."

As a kid, I thought it was a magic trick he was keeping in his back pocket. As a teenager, I thought it was just a quirky "Dad-ism." But it wasn't until the stroke that I finally understood what he meant. The stroke was the most solid wall he’d ever faced. It didn't just stand in his way it stole his balance and the steady strength of his hands. The doctors spoke in terms of "limitations" and "restrictions." To them, the wall was thick, cold, and permanent.

I remember sitting by his bed when he first tried to move. He looked at his trembling hands with an intensity that could have scorched the sheets. He tapped his temple with his fingers—slowly and shaky, but deliberate. He couldn't find the words yet, but the look in his eyes was the same one he had in the living room back home.

Will power.

Physical therapy was a series of collisions with that wall. Every time he tried to find his footing and his body said "no," he’d just reset. He treated the loss of coordination like he was staring down the wall in the living room. He refused to let the idea of the barrier stop his momentum. One afternoon, he was finally standing in the kitchen, leaning on a cane but upright. He looked at the wall leading into the living room and gave it a weak, lopsided grin. "You ever going to do it, Dad?" I asked, my voice thick with pride. "Finally walk through?" He let out a short, raspy laugh. "I’ve been walking through it every single morning," he whispered. "The trick isn't making the drywall or bricks disappear. The trick is never letting the wall convince you that you're stuck on the other side."

I realized then that while his body might hit a limit, his spirit never did. He taught me that the world is only as solid as you allow it to be.

Favorite memory

Dad had this hilarious, total conviction that the local cops had it out for him. He was convinced that the second that van rolled into town, there was a literal "Wanted" poster with his face on it at the station. He’d peer out the cabin window, certain they were just waiting for him to pull back onto the road so they could find a reason to bust him.

His master plan? Just start walking. We set off on foot, leaving the van safely tucked away at the cabin. Dad was leading the way, probably glancing over his shoulder every time a car drove by, convinced he was a tactical genius for leaving the van behind. In his mind, as long as those plates weren't moving, he was a ghost. To anyone else, it was just a guy and his two kids walking to the store, but to the three of us, it felt like we were successfully outsmarting the law.

Service arrangement are pending.

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