Cooper Yates Stewart

Cooper Yates Stewart February 13, 2000 – February 5, 2025

Cooper Stewart had a gift for making life more fun. Whether on the ice, in the locker room, or just hanging out with friends and family, he brought laughter, energy, and a style all his own—usually featuring a pair of wildly colorful pants and a dance move or two. He lived unapologetically as himself, and that’s exactly how he’ll be remembered.

Born to Sarah Kelien Stewart and Chris Stewart, and fiercely loved by his sister, Anson Elizabeth Stewart, Cooper lived his 24 years with the kind of passion and joy that few ever master. Cooper and his sister, Anson, shared a rare and unbreakable bond—one built on love, laughter, and a shared sense of adventure. From the time they were little, they were each other’s biggest supporters, always ready with a teasing remark or an inside joke that only they would understand. Their relationship was filled with an effortless back-and-forth, one that made even ordinary moments unforgettable.

Music was one of their greatest shared passions, and they saw many concerts together—at Red Rocks, in Atlanta, and many shows at Credit One Stadium. Their adventures didn’t stop there. Cooper patiently tried to teach Anson to snowboard in Snowmass, never losing their sense of humor even as she tumbled down the mountain. And no matter how busy life got, he always found time to sit on her bed after work and tell her all about his day. They were, truly, the best of friends—constant sources of laughter, encouragement, and unwavering love for each other.

Cooper was also the pride and joy of his mother, Sarah, who adored every ounce of his big personality. She was his biggest fan—both in the stands and in life—celebrating every save and every wildly ambitious outfit. Her unwavering support and boundless love shaped the person he became, and he never hesitated to make her proud in return. Their connection was one of deep admiration and playfulness, filled with banter and a shared love for life’s joys.

From the moment he attended his first South Carolina Stingrays game with his Nonna, Lisa Kelien, he knew he was “born to play hockey.” And when a 2-year-old makes a proclamation like that, you better believe he means it. By age three, he was skating, and by five, he was defying coaches' advice and setting up shop in the goalie net—because when Cooper decided on something, there was no changing his mind.

He dedicated his life to the game, playing from Mites to U18 with the Charleston Wolverines, Junior Stingrays, Columbia Cyclones, and Summerville High School’s hockey team. His talent and relentless spirit took him to the CT Junior Rangers and Decatur Blaze, where he played three years of junior hockey before returning to Decatur as a goalie coach and assistant coach. His hockey journey spanned countless rinks, countless teammates, and more questionable locker-room fashion choices.

Cooper was more than just an athlete—he was the heartbeat of every team he played for. He was the guy who stayed late in the locker room, not because he had to, but because he wanted to soak up every last second with the people who became his second family. He was the guy who turned warm-ups into dance parties, who could somehow pull off wearing pants no one else would dare attempt, and who never, ever took himself too seriously. His catchphrase? “I love me too!” is a sentiment we can all agree with, because how could you not?

His family—parents Sarah and Chris, sister Anson, grandparents Lisa Kelien ("Nonna"), Greg and Anne Kelien, Bruce and Sherry Stewart, Aunt Katie (Kelien) and Uncle Gerret Van Duyne along with his cousins Rhodes, Hadley and Gardner and Uncle Jason Stewart —will forever cherish his laughter, his energy, and the way he made life more fun just by being in it. His hockey and work families and his many friends feel the loss just as deeply, because Cooper was never just a player or a colleague—he was a brother, a friend, and a legend in his own right.

A Celebration of Life will be held on February 16th from 1:00 to 4:00 at 2923 Marshall Blvd, Sullivan’s Island. In lieu of flowers, please consider a donation to the Henrik Lundqvist Foundation—a tribute fitting for a goalie who gave so much to the game he loved.

Rest easy, Coop. May the ice always be fresh, the locker room always filled with laughter, and the pants always ridiculous.