William Willby Evans

Grief never ends… but it changes. It's a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith… it is the price of love.

Obituary

William "Willby" Evans, a beloved resident of Albuquerque, New Mexico, passed away on March 29, 2025, at the age of 52. Born in August 1972, Willby was a dependable friend, a devoted father, and an integral part of his community.

He was a man with deep love, quiet strength, and private struggles — someone who carried more than most people ever saw. His journey through life was never easy and he faced hardship early and often. Despite this, he moved forward with determination, doing the best he could with the weight he bore.

Willby's story is not defined by pain, nor by how it ended, but by the love he gave, the effort he made, and the moments of light he shared along the way. As written in Jeremiah 17:10, “I, Jehovah, am searching the heart, examining the innermost thoughts.” Jehovah knew him completely — not only his battles, but also his intentions, his tenderness, and the good he showed throughout his life. In His mercy, “He has not dealt with us according to our sins, nor repaid us what our errors deserve... For He well knows how we are formed, remembering that we are dust” (Psalm 103:10,14).

Willby now rests — not forgotten but held in the memory of the One who understands perfectly.

He is deeply mourned by his two beloved children, his siblings, extended family, and a wide circle of friends. His memory will be cherished by all who had the privilege of knowing him. 

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Memory wall

May 14, 2025

Today, I sat with grief.
There was no noise, no distractions, just me and the weight in my heart.
I thought if I stayed silent long enough, maybe grief would slip away.
But it stayed beside me, patient and still.
I tried to turn my back on it,
hoping it would lose its way.
But wherever I moved, it moved too,
like a shadow I couldn’t outrun.
This wasn’t a game—it was real, and it was heavy.
I changed rooms, changed scenery,
but grief was always there, waiting for me,
with a tear-streaked face that mirrored my own sadness.
I asked it why it wouldn’t leave,
why it clung to me so tightly.
But grief never answered,
because grief doesn’t need to.
So instead of pushing it away,
I let it sit beside me.
I stopped pretending I was fine.
I allowed myself to feel everything,
to show every crack, every broken piece.
Grief didn’t ask questions.
It didn’t rush me to heal.
It just stayed, patiently,
while I learned to breathe again.
Grief ate with me,
slept with me,
walked with me.
And slowly, I understood—
even if grief someday grows quieter,
the love behind it will never leave.
Because you are still gone,
and part of me will always miss you.
But sitting with grief?
It’s how I honor what was real.

G. C.

May 4, 2025

I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see
For still there are so many things
That I have never seen In every wood in every spring
There is a different green I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know
But all the while I sit and think Of times there were before I listen for returning feet And voices at the door

J.R.R. Tolkien

Glenn

May 2, 2025

I will always remember him with admiration for his intelligence and willingness to help with his wisdom, I will always be grateful for giving me the opportunity to get to know this country and have a better chance of life, when I was only 13 years old he took me to know his work place at a Fire fighter station and from there my admiration and desire to know his culture grew.
We will just wait to see him again if it is the will of our God Jehovah.

Esther

April 30, 2025

“He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.”

“There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.”

Aeschylus

Glenn Crisp

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