In the late 1980s, Gail McCreery became one of the first employees of Hospice of Tuscarawas County, later becoming Ohio’s Hospice. She began as the first secretary, but her impact went far beyond that title. From answering phones and typing correspondence to handling accounting and coordinating volunteers, she was the steady heart of an organization still finding its footing. 

Gail’s compassion for hospice work was deeply personal. Years earlier, she had watched a beloved aunt pass away in a cold hospital setting. The experience left her convinced there had to be a better way to care for people at the end of life by providing comfort, dignity and peace. Hospice care offered that alternative, and she poured herself into the mission wholeheartedly.  

Those early days were humble. The hospice office was tucked into what everyone referred to as a “broom closet” at a local hospital, so small that Gail’s desk and Janie Jones’s, former executive director, desk nearly touched. Yet, in that cramped space, the foundation of community hospice care began to take shape. Eventually, the office moved to Second Street in Dover, then to an old bank building. Gail’s dedication never wavered through those transitions, and the hospice program continued to grow. Janie once wrote to Gail, 
“We did it! I could not have done it without you. Hospice is blessed by all you do.”  

Serving beside Gail through it all was her husband, Don McCreery. A skilled woodworker and handyman, he built wheelchair ramps for patients’ homes, helped with office moves, and offered his skills wherever needed.   

Even their daughters played small parts. Jill recalls helping stuff envelopes for mailings in the early years, proud to contribute to her parent’s shared mission. Over time, their work became part of the fabric of the community. In recognition of their dedication and generosity, a volunteer award was later created in their names as a tribute to their selflessness. 

Decades later, Gail was admitted into Ohio’s Hospice’s Truman House for care. Her daughter, Jennifer, noticed her mother’s room looked out on a white house that felt strangely familiar. That very land had once belonged to a family who ran a daycare she attended as a child. She contacted the son of the family who once owned it. “How close am I,” she asked, “to where your family’s land used to be?” His answer was simple, profound: “You are there.”  

The Truman House had been built on the very land where Jennifer once played, and the same white house had since transformed into a place offering grief counseling for both children and adults. “The amount of love on that property was perfect for Truman House,” 
she says.   

In an unexpected full circle, the place that held her earliest memories now held her mother’s legacy. A legacy that together Gail and Don McCreery helped build with compassionate service.