1965-2024
An obituary is a hard place to sum up an outsized life—it’s flat and contains only words even though the person described was so much more than words and was so very multi-dimensional. My husband, Rob Butler, cannot be contained on a page. His passing on August 16th, 2024, leaves a space in our family that can never be filled but also brings us relief since he is no longer fighting for each breath. He was such a good person—decent and kind, funny and adventurous, open and generous. I am so lucky to have been by his side for 36 years and to have his best qualities ever present in our children, Will, Caroline, and John.
Instead of starting with his childhood in rural Ohio, I want to start just six years ago, in 2018, when we began a new chapter in our lives. We sold our things in New York, enrolled John in an online school for 8th grade, and took a year to travel around the world—we lived in 15 countries over 5 continents working, exploring, studying, and drinking a lot of coffee. We didn’t know where we would land when the trip was over, but we knew it would be the adventure of a lifetime! Rob’s willingness to set out for the unknown, to plan and explore, to throw himself into utterly new experiences felt natural. He made friends everywhere he went, which will not surprise anyone who knew him.
We came off the road and moved to Seattle so I could pursue my PhD at the University of Washington. Rob loved it here; he thought the Pacific Northwest was the world’s best kept secret. He worked for Amazon for his first three years here and took advantage of everything in the region. We hiked, we explored, we climbed; he and John set out for long stretches along the Pacific Crest Trail and on the Olympic Peninsula. He was a mentor to many young people at Amazon, a role he carried into his final position with Xenon Arc, where his kindness and intelligence earned the admiration and respect of all his colleagues.
After Rob was diagnosed with terminal cancer in 2023, Caroline moved across the country to live with us, Will chose a Coast Guard station just four hours away in Oregon, and John took a gap year between high school and college. We spent as much time together as we could, whether on the beach, out on walks with our dogs, or in hospital rooms.
Rob was determined to live to see me graduate. On June 5th this year, he did, and then threw a party so we could celebrate. On a perfect Seattle spring day, he spoke beautifully about us and how proud he was of my accomplishment, praise I will always hold close. After the party, he was often reflective. He talked about his happy childhood in Ohio with his mom and dad, brother, and two sisters, and about working a dairy farm side by side with his dad. This time taught him the value of the foundational support of a loving family and how to work hard with a smile.
He talked a lot about his time in college at West Point and on active duty in the U.S. Army—eight years that shaped a lifetime of friendships. And he talked about our two decades on Long Island where we raised our kids and instilled in them the foundations he’d learned. He was a dad-extraordinaire, Cub Scout leader, project builder (we still have the forge and potato cannon), and friend to many. The business he owned on Long Island allowed him the opportunity to travel worldwide, each trip a new opportunity to learn something new and meet someone worth knowing. In every recollection, he told me he felt he’d lived enough for multiple lifetimes, proof that he was, by any account, the king of silver linings, and always prioritized the right things, including taking care of his closest people. I’m happy to number myself one of them.
He had a fighting spirit until the very end. When a stroke in July took away some of his cognitive abilities, he worked tirelessly to regain the words he’d lost. We opened our doors to friends and family who wanted to visit him, and he was buoyed by every old story and reading lesson. After six weeks of hospice care, Rob moved on to his next plane of existence on a sunny Friday afternoon. We were honored to be with him, holding his hands until his last breath.
Rob leaves behind a lasting legacy of love. He is survived by me, Megan, his wife of 32 years, friend for 36; our children Will, Caroline, and John; his mother Dorcas Butler of Hillsboro, Ohio, sister Karen (Darren) Kessel of Milford, Ohio, and his 12 much-loved nieces and nephews. He joins in eternal rest his sister, Vicki Butler, his brother, Bruce Butler, and his father, Dennis Butler.
Donations can be made in his name to the Ballard Food Bank , but nothing would honor his life more than making choices as he tried to:
If you have a choice to be kind or not, always chose to be kind.
If you have a choice to be generous or greedy, chose to be generous.
If you have a choice to win, but at great cost to yourself and others, chose to walk away.
If you have a choice, always chose love.
The earth lost a beautiful light-filled spirit on August 16th, the kindest of souls, and deeply loved.