William Pfeffer

My husband was an amazing man. He was loved by so many people and made friends wherever he went. Mr. Bill. He was famous for his stories, his sayings, his quotes...and his kind, generous nature. He was quite a character, incredibly funny and witty, without even trying. He was an older dude with an wonderful youthful spirit! Bill was so proud of his kids. Bill adored our son Ryan. Ryan is now 32 but he still called him RyRy, and “the boy”. “Have you heard from the boy?” was a frequent question. And he loved his older son, Rick, and was always telling people about both Ryan and Rick. They were his joy. He had a daughter, Leslie, who had not seen in a long time, but he religiously called her every Thursday to "touch base". Bill was an incredibly humble man when it came to himself, but he sure would brag about his kids. Bill would talk to anyone. I am the opposite and tend to not speak to strangers. But, to Bill, no one was a stranger. He made people feel welcome, feel good. He had an army of close friends, especially his best buddy, Captain Midnight (aka Dan Hamilton). Dan lives in Florida but made frequent “road trips” to visit us and spend a couple of weeks hanging out with Bill, as they were always looking for a new adventure, a new VFW, a new Legion, a new audience that they could entertain with their stories. “Mr. Bill” loved our closest neighbors, the Saathoffs, like family. He was another father and grandfather to them. They spent many, many hours together drinking Margaritas in the bunkhouse, gazebo, kitchen or “Margarita Station” (a special spot on the lane between our two properties). And stories...always Mr. Bill stories. He was allowed to tell the same story over and over...unless it was more than 100. No one ever got tired of his stories. For me, Bill was my rock. We met almost 37 years ago, and the moment we met it was an instant recognition: THERE you are!!! It has been a true love story. We were soul mates. He was my very best friend. We went through some tough times in those years, but what I know is that he always loved me. He was my "safe" person. The only person I could be totally "ME" with. I didn't have to hold back anything. And, when I felt most unlovable, he loved me even more. I used to wonder how he could love me sometimes, when I was being grumpy, or distracted or busy. He knew me, and accepted me with unconditional love and without any expectations. Whatever I wanted to do, it was OK with him. He supported me in EVERYTHING I did. He was my biggest cheerleader, my biggest supporter. He believed I could do anything. He truly was the wind beneath my wings. He thought I was wonderful and even when I doubted myself, he never did. Bill used to call me his "Sweetheart", and "my Connie". When I would call him on the phone as I was coming home from work, he would so joyfully answer the phone, HELLO MY CONNIE...without fail. It was the highlight of my day. And every day, he'd say, "I'm so glad you're home". We were constantly saying the same thing at the same time. He'd say, "Get out of my head! I was just about to say that but you talk faster than me". When I was not at work, we were constantly together: taking care of animals on our farm, running to the store, visiting with family. We were inseparable. We loved each other’s company. Every morning that I worked, he would get up with me (at 4:30 am!!!) to be sure to make the coffee and make sure I had a cup of coffee to go, perfectly made the way I like it. He’d always see me off and always, “Turn your headlights on. Drive carefully. I love you”. I have been told by many people that in the last couple of weeks, Bill was calling friends and family and telling them to be sure to always "take care of Connie". I was his number one concern. I would often catch him just staring at me recently. I'd say, What are you looking at? One time, he said, "I am going to miss you so much". I asked, "Where am I going? I will never go anywhere without you". He said, "No, I mean when I step off of this planet, I will miss you the most". And just a few days before he left me, he said, "I don't want to leave you. I can't leave you". But, he did. And I will never be the same without him. I'm pretty sure if he could, Bill would say something like this: “Grieve not, nor speak of me with tears, but laugh and talk of me as if I were beside you..I loved you so — ’twas Heaven here with you.” - Isla Paschal Richardson