William George Gruesbeck Jr.

William George Gruesbeck Jr., 46, of Dayton, Ohio, passed away in Dayton on January 27, 2026.

Born in Greenville, Ohio on September 27, 1979, he was the second child and only son of Bill Sr. and Marta Gruesbeck. To his family, he was always Billy. To everyone else, he was William, Will, Bill or Bill Jr. depending on who he was talking to and what day it was – he would answer to all.

Bill spent his childhood in Gettysburg, Ohio, Rainbow City, Alabama and Beavercreek, Ohio. He graduated from Beavercreek High School in 1998 and lived in the Dayton area ever since.

A self-described techno nerd from an early age, Bill was what his family just called a "computer guy" – they weren't sure exactly what he did, but they knew it was cool. Bill began his IT career in high school. No one seemed all that concerned about handing over real responsibility to a 16-year-old kid – Bill's capability, knack for problem solving and dedication were obvious even then. Over his 30-year career, Bill worked for defense contractors, manufacturers, consultants, government agencies and entrepreneurs in the US and all over the world, from China to Italy. He was involved in founding a number of IT businesses and was a business owner himself. Bill had a particular interest in cybersecurity – he was an ethical hacker. From the time he was a teenager he organized and participated in hacker conferences to help other good guys get better.

But what made Bill extraordinary was the incredible breadth of his interests outside of work, all of which reflected his remarkable intellect, curiosity and ability. He was always ready to play a game – board game, video game, trivia night, whatever your flavor (though truth be told, he may not have been the strongest guy on his darts team). He was an offensive lineman on his high school football team, and both of his nephews have followed in his footsteps. Bill loved Japanese anime, science fiction and sushi. He kept up his old ham radio license for years, just to mess around. He was fascinated by history and archaeology, and loved talking about the new things modern technology can tell us about antiquity. He would take a random college class just to learn more about a topic that caught his attention. Once Bill was interested, he dove deep and he absorbed. As broad as his interests were, his understanding was deeper.

Bill had reverence for true artists and craftsmen, anyone from traditional woodworkers to fountain pen makers to master machinists. Anything that was expertly created – especially if it was old and had a good story – he collected it, he studied it, he talked about it. And he loved getting his own hands dirty with a new project. Bill rebuilt cars and fixed motorcycles. When his Dad needed an assistant in the woodshop, Bill was there. As he used to say: Build stuff. Break stuff. Fix stuff. Not necessarily in that order.

Among his many talents, Bill's deepest passion was photography – particularly old-school film photography. He loved the mystery of it, the idea that you never knew what image you captured until you coaxed it into existence. He was a landscape guy, an astrophotographer, an urban photographer. Bill loved to travel, mostly to document the beauty he saw along the way. His work was gorgeous – but he did it only to please himself. He wasn't looking for attention or accolades. He just wanted to make art.

And as much as he loved the artistry of it, Bill was obsessed with the tools of the trade. He was an expert at optics, photographic equipment, lighting systems, all of it. He was fascinated by vintage camera design. Bill was the guy you asked about the best old camera shops, the best repair technicians, the best print labs. He was constantly buying and selling photography gear. He would travel across the country to pick up a particularly lovely enlarger – and then call you in excitement when he got it home. His basement darkroom was a labor of love.

One thing that was a constant in Bill's life – writing. About everything. Flipping through one of his many, many notebooks, a friend would see tons of computer guy stuff – network schematics, designs for various computer equipment that no one understood, study notes for his many professional certifications. But they would also see poetry, descriptions of places he had been and trips he wanted to take, studio lighting diagrams, variations on his famous cheesecake recipe, design requirements for the camper he wanted to build, ideas for his 3-D printer and CNC machine. Many pages were just titled Cool Project Ideas. Bill was a practical, capable guy. But at heart he was a dreamer.

Bill was big and strong, both physically and in personality. Stubborn from birth, he was always right. That's just truth. In his words: I'd agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong. No one escaped his sardonic sense of humor. And no one could deny his huge, soft heart, and his incredible loyalty and generosity to friends and family – with his time, his talents and his spirit. Need to set up a network and make sure it was idiot-proof? Bill's your guy. Don't understand why your Pentax is acting up? Check your email, the fix is in your inbox. Need a hand moving that heavy couch? Done. Your Boomer self is stumped by an iPhone? He's got you covered (cursing Steve Jobs under his breath). Generally discouraged by life? Bill's there with a big smile, a cup of coffee and a bear hug.

Bill was especially devoted to his parents, his sisters, his nieces and his nephews. He went to dance recitals, he watched every football game – even if he had to squint to see the livestream. He always remembered to buy special gluten-free cupcakes for his nieces. He set his nephews up with 3-D printing gear and gave them tips for blocking that really big defensive lineman. He pressure washed his Mom's driveway and always made sure her water softener had salt. He visited his Dad in memory care, and took him for ice cream or a spin on the motorized cart at Home Depot. He was a sounding board and a joker with his two "extra" brothers – his best friends for more than 30 years. They argued, almost as if it were a sport. And when anyone really needed it, he would send a text with an encouraging word, a silly cat meme or a dopey joke.

Bill had so much left to learn, so much left to do, so much left to give, but not enough hours to do it all. Bill and his sisters' favorite movie growing up was The Princess Bride. At this moment, we are all Vizzini: a world without Bill is just inconceivable. But the heartbreaking reality from Inigo Montoya is this: I do not think that word means what you think it means.

Bill is predeceased by his father, William George Gruesbeck Sr., and is survived by his mother, Marta Louise Graf Gruesbeck; his two sisters, Kelly Catherine Gruesbeck Gwathney and Erin Marie Gruesbeck Collins; his brothers-in-law, Curt Gwathney and Jack Collins; his five nieces and nephews, Will Gwathney, George Gwathney, Celia Collins, Shelby Collins and Josephine Collins; his bonus brothers John Lovelace and Andrew Doherty; and many aunts, uncles, cousins and others in his large family.

Bill’s family will host a visitation for family and friends on Sunday, February 8, 2026 from 1:00 to 3:00 pm at Newcomer Beavercreek Chapel, 3380 Dayton-Xenia Road, Beavercreek, Ohio, immediately followed by a memorial service at 3:00 pm.

A coffee connoisseur and a loyal coffee shop regular, Bill spent literally years of his life at Ghostlight Coffee (now Wayne and Clover) in Dayton – his home away from home – and was devoted to his friends there. If you've ever shared a cup with Bill, or just want to pass on the quiet kindness he lived by, please consider a donation to Wayne and Clover's Coffee for Good program, which helps non-profits throughout the Dayton area. Or, next time you're at your favorite coffee shop, buy a cup for the next guy, in memory of Bill.

To share a memory of Billy or leave a special message for his family, please visit the Guestbook below.