David John Villareal

November 24, 1955 – January 29, 2024

The world just lost one of the greats. And not just any great—the great. My dad, David John Villareal, debarked on his heavenly quest on January 29, 2024, to reunite with the love of his life, Gail. Born on Thanksgiving Day in Port Arthur, Texas, in 1955, Dad came into this world with a heart bigger than the entire Lone Star State and a spirit wild enough to make life one hell of a ride. And ride, he did. Whether it was his Harley, boats, planes, scuba tanks, or just the open road, my father never stayed still for long—unless, of course, he was watching his grandkids, whom he loved more than words can describe.

Survived by his many siblings—Ed (Alexis), Cindy (Mike), Ruth (Billy), Della (Carl), Leah (Kris), Vicki (Mike), Danny (Kathy), Susan (Steve), and Mikey (Peggy)—and over 70 nieces and nephews, Dad’s family tree is less of a tree and more of a national forest. But his most important role was being the father to three daughters: Angie Thier (Chuck), Desiree Grojean (Jay), and his favorite 2 people (just saying), me, Anna Villareal (Gary Charley). He was also a proud “Big Daddy” to Charlie, Chance, William, Chandler, Zoey Jayne, Madison, and Jayden—whom he may or may not have loved more than his own kids. (He did.)

Dad’s life was an adventure, and if you were lucky, he dragged you along for the ride. His philosophy was simple: See the world. See it twice. Bring people with you the second time so they can see it too. He lived by that rule, whether it was a road trip to the Crater of Diamonds or a scuba-diving trip in Cozumel. He loved the water, the open road, and the thrill of experiencing something new. He was a man who didn’t just exist—he lived. He never did anything halfway. If he loved you, you knew it. If he didn’t… well, you probably knew that too. He had a laugh that could fill a room and a heart so damn big that he couldn’t help but share it with everyone around him… some would call him a “people person”. (Inside joke)

He taught us how to live, not just how to survive. And he did it with adventure, kindness, and unwavering love—because let’s be real, he loved big. He was an optimist. Five marriages later, he proved that good people make mistakes… sometimes four times before they get it right. (This does not apply to Jackie—love you, Jackie!) But his greatest love was always my mom, Gail—his partner in this life, his one true love. Whether they were running a pool tournament at Big Dave’s Dam Saloon, eating at Pappadeaux or Flores, or just sitting together in the quiet, they had the kind of love that movies try—and fail—to capture.

Dad wasn’t just a traveler; he was a man who built a legacy—literally. He started Lift Me Up Inc. in the ’90s, making boat lifts all over Lake Travis. If you had something precious fall in the water, Dad was the guy you called. And he wouldn’t just retrieve it—he’d refuse the reward and tell you, “I’m just happy I could help.” That’s who he was. He gave more than he took, loved harder than most, and never asked for anything in return. He was the person you could call at 2 a.m. because you made some stupid mistake, your car broke down, or just because—and he’d show up, without fail, every time.

And let’s not forget—the man was hilarious. Quick-witted, sharp, and always down for a cruise, whether it was on a ship, a boat, a motorcycle, or a hot rod.

My dad was my hero. He taught me everything that mattered—how to be strong, how to be kind, that integrity and wisdom are priceless, and how to always, always do the right thing. He didn’t just tell us how to be good people—he showed us.

And in his honor, I ask that you do the same. Be kind. Help people. Give when you can, even when you think you can’t. Take the damn trip. Love with everything you have. And when in doubt, just do what Big Daddy would do.

And, as he would say to us three girls—even when we were grown and had kids of our own—

“Go to bed.”

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