Deborah Lucille Buoy

Deborah Lucille Buoy, age 68 passed away on Wednesday, April 16, 2025.

A visitation for Debra will be held Saturday, May 3, 2025 from 12:00 PM to 4:30 PM at Bateman Carroll Funeral Home, 520 W Powell Blvd, Gresham, Oregon 97030. A funeral service will occur Sunday, May 4, 2025 at 1:00 PM at Bateman Carroll Funeral Home, 520 W Powell Blvd, Gresham, Oregon 97030.

Born on December 29, 1956, in Portland, Oregon, Deborah came into this world with a bright spirit and a heart already full of love. She grew up in a large family surrounded by the noise and joy of brotherly siblings, laughter, and life’s simple pleasures. Though she would live in places like Salem, Sacramento, and Yuba City, her heart always found its way back home—to Portland, to family, and to the people she loved.

To speak of Debbie is to speak of love in motion. She didn’t just love; she lived her love. Fiercely, freely, and without condition. She loved her children, her grandkids, her extended family, her many friends, and her animals. But above all, she loved Jimmy Byrd—her husband, her partner, her soulmate. They met as teenagers and fell into the kind of love that novels try to describe. They were, quite simply, meant for each other.

Through the years, life brought its share of challenges, but Debbie and Jimmy never wavered. They met every storm side by side—laughing, loving, pushing through. Even when money was tight or times were tough, Debbie didn’t complain, and she didn’t take any gruff.

And if you looked up the dictionary definition of “being a good host” well her and Jimmy’s photo would most likely be there. And she cooked pancakes. And not just any pancakes—literally hundreds of them, made with heart, and often given delightful names that had the grandkids laughing and begging for more.

Their kitchen and house were open 24/7. It didn’t matter who you were—if you walked through her door, you were family. And if you were family, you were fed, loved, and likely sent home with a story or two.

Debbie raised not only her own children but poured her heart into raising Jimmy’s kids and the blended family of Angela and Buddy, Tammy, April, and Angela, too. Debbie didn’t distinguish. To her, they were all her kids, even cousins and nephews felt like her kids. And she was proud—so very proud—of each and every one of them.

She also loved nothing more than taking the grandkids to the Oregon Zoo, the beach, or just sitting around the house sharing a lunch and a laugh. She made life feel like home.

After Jimmy passed in 2013, Debbie’s heart was broken. But her spirit, somehow, remained unshaken. She kept going for the sake of her family, for the sake of love, and for the sake of memory. As she did with Jimmy she found comfort in the small joys—boating trips, beach camping, long chats over coffee, or caring for her beloved dogs.

Her wild, hilarious spirit never faded. Angelica remembered even at age 65, she was still doing wheelies in a side-by-side on a camping trip—and yes, she broke her elbow. But even that couldn’t stop her from showing up for her family.

And Wilbur remembers his best memory of when she and Jimmy were in their Pontiac at a car show, he could tell they just seemed happy, happy to be with each other and happy to enjoy life.

To say that Debbie was generous is an understatement. She was a caretaker to all. If someone needed a meal or a hug, or a second chance—Debbie gave it. She had a way of seeing people not just as they were, but for who they could be.

And once she saw your light, she never let it dim. Even when she wasn’t feeling her best, she found the energy to help others. Like when she drove five hours while sick to attend her granddaughter Angelica’s graduation. That was Debbie. That was love in action.

She also worked hard, being a manager at The Cypress Inn for 25 years, running auto businesses with Jimmy, buying and selling property and cars, always with determination and sharp intuition. You could count on that auto auctions would be playing on the computer and became the background music for years.

And when it came time to relax, you could find her possibly jamming out to “Black Betty” in the car, doing air guitar, bouncing the car like a teenager again. That was her song. That was our Debbie.

She loved animals—she never had less than 3 dogs. It cannot be overstated she adored the Oregon Coast—especially Rockaway. She loved the smell of campfires, the feel of the river, the thrill of garage sales with her best friend Rhonda, and the nostalgia of her hippy days, often dressing in tie-dye and peace signs with a glint in her eye. She loved to play golf even though she didn’t know the rules, and she loved Bingo—mostly for the food.

She loved the simple moments: pancakes on a Saturday, pop in the fridge, available for everyone, a full house, a full yard and a louder heart. And she leaves behind a legacy that will ripple through generations.

Debbie will be remembered as loving, adventurous, funny, wise, generous, strong, and wild in the best sense of the word. She didn’t need much to be happy—just her family close, her dogs nearby, and Jimmy at her side. And today, we take comfort in knowing they are together again—hand in hand, in the great beyond, where love does not end but only grows.

Let us not leave here with only tears. Let us also leave with gratitude—for having known her, for being loved by her, for learning from her. And let us carry forward her spirit in the ways that truly matter.

When you cook for others, when you open your home, when you dance to a favorite song without a care in the world—live like Debbie.

When you forgive freely, love deeply, and give without asking for anything in return—live like Debbie.

When you stand up for what’s right, when you laugh so hard your belly aches, when you rescue a dog named Chachi even if it means jumping in the rough river water and making Jimmy jumping mad—live like Debbie.

And so, we say goodbye, not just with sorrow, but with a promise—to keep her special brand of magic alive, not just in our words, but in our actions. In the big-hearted love she gave us, in the way she made people feel safe and seen, and in the joy, she brought into every room.