William “Bill” Washington
5/03/1952-08/22/2026
In Loving Memory of William “Bill” — Grandpa Billy, Pops, and Daddy
It is impossible to summarize the life of a truly remarkable man in only a few paragraphs. There are too many stories, too many talents, too many sacrifices, and far too much love to adequately put into words who Bill was and what he meant to those who loved him.
William “Bill,” affectionately known as Grandpa Billy, Pops, and, most preciously to his children, Daddy, passed peacefully on August 22, 2026, at 1:54 p.m., surrounded by his family.
Bill was the proud father of six children: Jesse, Rose, Rachel, Morgan, Ryan, and Keaton. He loved his grandchildren beyond measure: Kaylynn, Daphne, Ava Grace, Tucker, Liliana, Ronan, and Orin. To his family, he was so much more than a father or grandfather. He was their protector, provider, teacher, storyteller, example, safe place, and constant source of love.
Family was the center of Bill’s life.
He spent a lifetime working and sacrificing to ensure the people he loved were taken care of. For more than fifteen years, that work took him throughout the Middle East, including Iraq and Afghanistan, where he endured difficult and dangerous conditions while supporting and protecting American service members. He also proudly served his country in the United States military and later continued that service overseas, including during Operation Iraqi Freedom and other missions.
That life came with a tremendous cost. His body carried the evidence of years of hard work, danger, injury, and sacrifice. Yet he continued. Providing for his wife, his children, and his family mattered deeply to him. As his children knew so well, Bill didn't simply talk about love—he demonstrated it through what he did.
And there seemed to be very little Bill couldn't do.
He was an extraordinarily gifted sculptor and painter, a master electrician, carpenter, poet, and pool player. He could build something, repair it, create something beautiful from it, teach someone else how to do it, or seemingly master whatever he decided to put his hands to. His creativity was woven throughout his life. The art and things he created remain tangible pieces of him, but his greatest masterpiece can be found in the lives and hearts of the people he loved.
Bill was also tough—almost impossibly so. Men his family considered among the toughest they had ever known described Bill as the toughest man they had ever known. He survived situations that became family stories and had enough adventures to fill several lifetimes. He traveled places many people will never see, experienced things most could never imagine, worked tremendously hard, created beautiful things, and helped countless people along the way.
But his greatest strength was never how much pain he could withstand or how many impossible circumstances he survived.
His greatest strength was his capacity to love.
Bill loved deeply and without judgment. He gave freely of himself and accepted people for who they were. He understood that family wasn't simply something you belonged to; it was something you cared for, protected, showed up for, and loved through your actions.
He especially loved his grandchildren. Being Grandpa Billy was another chapter in a life already overflowing with stories, and the love he gave them will continue through the memories they carry.
Bill's faith also shaped how he understood this life and what came afterward. He had long reminded his children that we are only passing through this world—that ultimately, we are simply on our way home.
Waiting at home, his family believes, was the love of his life, his wife and lifelong partner, Nancy, who preceded him in death, along with the others he loved so dearly who made that journey before him.
Perhaps that is why, after everything Bill survived during an extraordinary lifetime, his final moments were not defined by struggle. His family was there. He was surrounded by love. His eyes were closed, his heart was open, and his journey here was complete.
He was going home.
For his children, however, his absence leaves a space that words cannot adequately describe.
His daughter Rachel describes it as an empty place within her where her father's love once filled the room—through a visit, a conversation, a text, or simply knowing that Daddy was there. Nothing else can occupy that particular space because nothing else can replace the love of her father.
She is profoundly grateful for the time they shared, especially during these last few years, and believes that even now he remains close—in her heart, in her thoughts, in the things around her, and in the love that does not disappear simply because someone leaves their earthly form.
Among the words she will carry forever are the ones she heard from him:
“I love you, my darling daughter.”
And the words she leaves with him are these:
“I love you, my amazing Daddy. I am so grateful that you chose me and I chose you… isn't it just amazing?”
His children will each carry their own version of their father with them: the artist, the adventurer, the provider, the protector, the teacher, the storyteller, the man of faith, the impossibly tough man, the gentle and nonjudgmental man, and simply, Daddy. Each of them also carries the ways he provided for them—not only through the work of his hands and the sacrifices he made, but through the time he gave, the lessons he taught, the protection he offered, the encouragement he shared, and the steady love that helped shape who they became.
His stories will continue to be told. His artwork will remain. His lessons will be repeated. His grandchildren will hear about his adventures. His children will recognize pieces of him in themselves and one another. And the family for whom he sacrificed so much will continue carrying forward what he spent his lifetime teaching them:
Love your people. Take care of your family. Give what you can. Create something beautiful. And remember that this life is only part of the journey.
Everyone dies, but not everyone truly lives.
Bill truly lived.
And he was deeply, profoundly loved.
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