Mr. William J. 'Bill' Baker

Baker, William J. "Bill", age 51 of Brownstown, Formerly of Wyandotte, passed away September 23, 2015. Loving husband of Wendy. Wonderful father of Sadie. Also survived by his Sister Lisa (John) Horvath and his father William "Bill" (Karen). Proud uncle of many nieces and nephews. Bill was preceded in death by his mother Nira. Sitting down to write a formal obituary for my dad is the last thing he would have wanted. Everyone sitting in a room crying for three days is also the last thing he would have wanted, but here we are: writing formal obituaries and sitting in a room crying for three days. I could sit here and tell you about all of the things that "William loved to do in his spare time," or maybe about "his hobbies," but I won't. My dad wasn't William, or even Bill, to me. He was my dad. He was the one thing in my life I knew I could always count on; the person I could go to with anything and if he didn't have a solution right then & there, he had one for me within twenty minutes. I'd say he was dealt kind of a crappy hand in life, but that didn't stop him from being lively and vivacious wherever he was. If you ask any nurse that ever cared for him in a hospital, they'll tell you that he was cracking jokes and making comments within minutes of being checked in. My dad might have been the most anti-social person I've ever met, but he was somehow still the life of every party, every family gathering. He was the life of our home. I don't know what I'm going to do now, walking into a quiet house, not having someone making fun of me instantly because I had a hard time unlocking the door or I couldn't quite manage to carry in all the things I'd collected through the day. I do know, however, that the best way to remember my dad isn't by crying or being sad, it's by embracing life, because that's what he did. When you think about my dad, don't think about the times he was sick or in poor health, think about the great memories. If you're reading this, I'm sure there is one story in your head sticking out right now; some crazy thing he said or did. My dad lit up a room with his smile, laughter, and the sarcastic comment he somehow had for every situation. God may have taken him too soon, but he needed him more, as hard as that has been to admit. I'm sure you're all wondering when this becomes an obituary, but it doesn't. It's a celebration of my dad's life that I somehow managed to cram into two paragraphs. We're all still here, my mom, my grandparents, nieces, nephews, sisters, brothers, and friends. We all know my dad loved a good Sunday spent watching football, or a good night spent listening to Van Halen and drumming along to the music. I don't have to tell you that, because you know. None of this is probably what I'm expected to be putting on a funeral home's website, but here it is. I just hope my dad knows how much I loved him and how proud I am of him. Always have been, always will.