William's obituary
William “Bill” James Weideman, Jr., age 52, of Gig Harbor, Washington, passed away on July 14, 2025, surrounded by loved ones, after a brief but courageous battle with cancer.
Bill was a man defined by his deep and abiding love for family. He is survived by his wife, Lisa, and his former wife, Melissa (Robert); his mother, Jackie, and stepfather, Joe, along with their children Zach, Tori, and Jackson; his father, Bill, and stepmother, Vicki, and their children David, Matthew, and Leah. He is also lovingly remembered by his aunt Sandy, her wife, Sage, and his uncle Bill.
Bill often said that he wanted to have twelve children, and nearly made it, leaving behind eleven beloved children—Breanne, Jolie (Colton), Hannah (Markus), Liam, Malcolm, Viktor, Alice, Mary, Sam, Annabelle, and Skye—each of whom he cherished deeply. He was a proud and adoring grandfather to Lewis, Jonah, and Mason. Bill often joked that the best part of having children was that they eventually give you grandchildren, and he meant it; he stayed closely connected, video chatting with at least one of his kids or grandkids nearly every day.
Born on October 2, 1972, in Las Vegas, Nevada, Bill grew up in Southern California, living in Glendale and Canyon Country. His youth was filled with adventure and movement—he was happiest outdoors, especially once he discovered surfing. He was known to sneak in a few waves even during his school lunch breaks. Exceptionally athletic, Bill had a natural talent for sports, but it was volleyball that captured his heart. He played with passion and skill for Canyon High School, earning the honor of having his jersey retired in recognition of his exceptional contributions — most notably playing through an ankle injury to lead the team to victory in the final game of the season his senior year.
After getting married, Bill moved away from California. He often said that family life just wasn’t compatible with living near the ocean—the pull to surf was too strong to resist. Instead, he shifted his passions toward hobbies that brought his family together. He played Magic: The Gathering and board games with Melissa and the kids, dove into World of Warcraft with Lisa, Liam, and Sam, and ran epic Dungeons & Dragons campaigns for his aunt, brother, dad, and children. Bill also made it a point to read the same books his kids were reading, so he could share the experience with them. When they were younger, this meant the Twilight series— which he defended unapologetically—and later grew into a shared love of fantasy novels like Brandon Sanderson’s works, The Sword of Kaigen, and his personal favorite, The Name of the Wind.
Bill studied European History and Political Science at Southern Utah University, where his unconventional ideas and nonconformist personality expanded discussions in his field. His professors valued not only his unique perspective, but also the way his learning disability—most notably his struggles with spelling, such as once referring to "serfs" as "surfs" throughout an entire paper—humanized him. Bill had an extraordinary gift for seeing connections that others often missed—between people, historical events, or even data—and he carried this insight with him throughout his life.
Professionally, Bill spent over two decades with Domino’s Pizza, dedicating 23 years to the company in roles of increasing leadership and impact. From managing stores to overseeing regional operations, he brought the same quick thinking and convention-bucking insight that defined so much of who he was. He possessed unusual vision and an unparalleled ability to aggregate information, recognize patterns, and adjust accordingly to increase sales and productivity.
Spiritually, Bill was a seeker. As a teenager, he joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and devoted two years of his early adulthood to missionary work in South Carolina. In his later years, his quest for personal growth led him to Zen Buddhism, where he sought peace, mindfulness, and the discipline to soften his sharp edges. He often said he turned to Zen in the hope of becoming “less aggressive, more present,” and he approached that path with sincerity and introspection.
Bill was often the smartest and most magnetic personality in a room. He had a quick wit and intelligence that made him equally comfortable debating ideas endlessly or crafting the perfect joke or “troll.” His sense of humor, which Lisa affectionately referred to as “shock charm,” wasn’t for everyone, but his charisma drew people in wherever he went. An engaging storyteller, Bill could turn the most mundane moment into an epic tale, funny, vivid, and often painting himself as the flawed or even villainous character. Whether at the dinner table or on a casual phone call with family, with coworkers or strangers, his stories and laughter left a lasting impression.
Bill will be remembered for his unwavering dedication to those he loved. His legacy lives on in the many lives he touched—as a son, husband, father, grandfather, and friend.