With full hearts and misty eyes, we share that John William Murray slipped quietly into the twilight, where stories never end, on June 28, 2025, at “The Farm,” his patch of paradise in Hudson, Michigan. Born July 25, 1958, John lived a life that was gloriously unfiltered, wildly sincere, and impossible to forget.
John was a man who called it like he saw it—usually with a mischievous glint in his eye and a remark that walked the fine line between outrageous and hilarious. His humor was sharp, occasionally sideways, but always unforgettable. He had a gift for turning even the most ordinary moment into a story worth retelling. And he never met a work break he couldn’t improve with a well-hidden six-pack.
A fiercely loyal father, he leaves behind his beloved daughters: Diana Witowski, Christina Cisneros, and Janet Peasley (Jason). He was the ever-proud, ever-playful Opa to six cherished granddaughters: Eva and Claire Witowski, Luciana and Loriana Cisneros, and Violet and Lily Peasley. He is also survived by his mother, Janet Murray (Joe Nance), and by his brother, Kevin Murray (Janet).
As a young man, John briefly ran away with the carnival—a career move he recounted with a suspicious level of flair. After that colorful chapter, he served in the U.S. Army in Germany, where fate arranged a meet-cute for the ages. At a dance club, while studiously not dancing, he met the love of his life, Evelyn “Evie” Murray. When he asked, “Do you speak American?” she coolly responded, “No, but I speak English.” And just like that, a love story began. We like to imagine her now, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, and waiting for her Spatz with that signature mix of exasperation and devotion.
John built his little empire with calloused hands and stubborn resolve. He worked more than two decades at Ford Motor Company’s Wayne Assembly Plant, providing for his family while dreaming bigger. Together with Evie, he juggled living under one roof with his mother (a sitcom waiting to happen), bought two homes, acquired land in Harrison, and finally claimed the “Farm” in Hudson, where he found a deeper rhythm in life.
Evenings were sacred: after long shifts and hard labor, he came home to a lovingly wrapped plate—steak, potatoes, and corn—Evie’s quiet way of saying, “I got you, I love you.” That plate might’ve been covered in plastic wrap, but it held the warmth of everything they built together.
John was a protector, a prankster, a storyteller, and a man who made sure his people knew they were loved—even if the message came dressed as a joke. His absence will echo in every tall tale told around the bonfire, every too-loud laugh, and every perfectly timed eye roll.
Raise a cold one for Big John. Heaven won’t know what hit it.
A Memorial service for John will be held at a later date. Check back for updated information.