Billie Leonalde Paxton

Billie Leonalde Paxton Jr., age 70, of Fresno California, drew his last breath on May 18th, 2026, at Clovis Community Hospital, surrounded by loved ones. Born on February 1, 1956, in Bakersfield California, he was the eldest of eight children, brought into this world by Bill Sr. and Johanna Paxton.

Known from childhood as PeeWee, he carried through life a steady, beloved presence—one shaped by resilience, and by the quiet dignity of a man who never shied from work. Billie believed in doing things the right way: treating people fairly, standing by unwavering principles, and earning what he had through dedication and perseverance. “Get busy living or get Busy dying” was how he lived his life—words that echoed in the way he met each day with purpose, grit, and an unpretentious kind of strength.

Billie was a mechanical genius who fixed everything, and he found his truest ease outdoors, at home wherever there was space to fish, hike, or simply sit with nature. Some of his happiest moments were beside the water—fishing, sharing stories, letting time slow to the pace of the current. He asked for no services and no fuss. Instead, he wished for his ashes to be spread at one of his favorite mountain ravines, where the wild golden trout flourished, and where he had brought his girls before.

Billie is survived by his life partner Vikki Van Hoosen; his daughters Leah Paxton and Heather Lambert (Troy); and his grandchildren Wyatt Winklepleck, Morgan Winklepleck, Dakota Lambert, and Landon Lambert—each of whom brought him deep pride and enduring happiness. He is also survived by his siblings Linda Paxton-Jenkins, Ray Paxton, Corina Paxton, Bernice Higgs, Denice Paxton, and David Paxton.

He was preceded in death by his little brother Jimmy Paxton, and by his parents Bill Sr. and Johanna Paxton.

Though he will be deeply missed, Billie leaves behind a legacy of honesty, strength, humility, and a love for the outdoors—an imprint made not by spectacle, but by steadfastness. His memory will continue to inspire those who had the privilege of knowing him, like a familiar trail, a well-worn tool, or a clear mountain stream that keeps running long after we’ve stepped away.