Bill Butterweck

Bill Butterweck, 67, of Phoenix, Arizona, left this world too soon on September 15, 2025. Bill spent decades crisscrossing the country as a long-haul trucker, proudly referring to his office as "the open road." He loved boating, The Beatles, and was a die-hard Yankees fan. His life was defined by his love for family, his generosity toward everyone around him, and a sense of humor that carried so many through tough times. He leaves behind his loving and devoted daughter, Katie, and her beloved partner, Kris, whom Bill considered family; his dear sister, Lynne; and his brother, Jimmy, who was not only his brother but his lifelong companion and best friend, with whom he shared a home for over 40 years. He is also survived by his brothers, Paul and Steve. He was preceded in death by his parents, Martha and Wilbur Butterweck, and his sister, Jane. Bill was a proud uncle to many nieces and nephews, and for those who lost their fathers or faced difficult circumstances, he became a trusted father figure and steady source of support. He is also survived by great-nieces, great-nephews, and countless friends and neighbors who will miss him dearly. The family and close friends grieved his loss privately. In lieu of flowers, please honor Bill by being kind to your neighbors and the people around you. He believed the best way to make the world a better place was simple: take care of your family, take care of your friends, and trust that, in the end, good things come back around. The thing about my dad is he was the dad everybody wished they had. I thought so many times over the course of my life that if I was given a choice of any dad in the whole world -- I would pick him. He wasn't perfect, but neither am I. Nobody is. The thing about him that most impacted my life was that he was always there for me, no matter what. I always knew he would pick up the phone (or in pre-cell phone era --pull over and call me from a pay phone if I paged him). I knew he would never judge me and would always be there for me. He's the kind of guy you'd call if you needed to bury a body, no questions asked, and you wanted to get a beer on the way. But also he was like this with everyone he was close to, not just me. He was also just a really fun dad. When I was very little I have memories of him being in town and me staying the night at his house. He'd get up in the morning and make me a "menu" of all the food that was in the house that we could have for breakfast and I could circle what I wanted like I was at a restaurant -- oatmeal, hotdogs, scrambled eggs. It made a mundane thing like breakfast be just so much fun. He loved food and cooking and baking and we always shared recipes and would try new things together. The very last time I saw him, I made a delicious meal for him -- a pork roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, glazed carrots and onion focaccia. It was really nice outside, so we ate in the front yard and sat there for hours, just hanging out. I sent him off with a box of my homemade brownies. I just loved him so much. From a young age, we always took trips together, just me and him. We went to Maui and rode horses on the beach, we went to New York City to see a Yankee game, he took me to Disneyland, and to Disney World, we went to Boston for the Olympic gymnastics trials. And as I became an adult and started travelling internationally -- I was able to plan a trip for him -- we took two weeks and went to Ireland, England and Italy and had the best time. He really enjoyed the English Sunday roast and all the British pubs. We also went to a remote farm in the rolling hills of Tuscany and I'll never forget how much he lost his mind over how delicious and juicy the cantaloupes were that grew there. He was generous to a fault, deeply funny and he swore like a sailor. Something I can always hear him saying is, "Nice turn signal, shit for brains". And I also say that a lot when I drive. I, too, have a foul mouth, as most of you know, and I obviously got that from him. I can't tell you how many times I've uttered, "Well -- my dad was a truck driver, so......" Even though he's been a long haul trucker since I was 5 -- his presence in my life was always very strong and that rock solid foundation is what gave me the courage to go out and live a big, crazy life. Because what's the worst that happens? I can always call my dad and he'll have my back. I felt the same fierce love and protection of him too. When he was in a horrible road accident in 2016, my brain just mechanically took over, threw some shit in a bag, hopped in my car and raced the seven hours to be with him. There was no other option. Kris and I hung out with him in the hospital for a week and he came home and rehabbed / lived with us for two months. I am so glad that we all had that time together. I thought we would be doing that same thing this time. I got the call, we got on the first flight out, we were going to do whatever he needed. Hearing the words "he didn't make it" - I'm unable to actually put into words what that felt like. It felt like a living nightmare. I know that with time it will get easier, but I also know that my heart will be broken forever. You only get one dad and he was the best one there ever was. He loved boating, he loved his family, he loved the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. He appreciated a beautiful sunset, he loved the simple things in life, he always said, "See? It always works out." Dad -- I hope that you are proud of the choices I've made this week and that you're stoked to be turned into soil and go back to the earth. I'll be doing the same thing when I die, so I'll see you there. I love you. You will be deeply, deeply missed by so many. Every single person who knew you was better for it. Thanks for everything.