Christopher Michael Powell

Christopher Michael Powell passed away on Wednesday, August 19, 2026, at the age of 44.

Honestly, we're still trying to figure out how this is real.

Chris was born on February 24, 1982, in Bremerton, Washington. He grew up with a love for classic cars, music, sports, and, most of all, making people laugh. He had a quick wit, a sarcastic sense of humor, and a remarkable ability to find something funny in almost any situation. He could make you laugh when you didn't feel like laughing—and sometimes make you shake your head and say, "Chris..." while trying not to laugh anyway.

He was the kind of person who could walk into a room and leave an impression. Sometimes it was because of something incredibly kind he said. Sometimes it was because of something completely ridiculous. And sometimes, quite honestly, it was both.

Chris had an entrepreneurial spirit and built much of his life around his love of automobiles. He had a particular passion for classic cars and restoring them. He loved the challenge of taking something old, broken, or forgotten and bringing it back to life. He appreciated the craftsmanship, the history, and the satisfaction of seeing something special emerge from something that others might have given up on.

That passion was a reflection of Chris himself—determined, creative, persistent, and never afraid to get his hands dirty.

But Chris was so much more than the cars he loved or the work he did.

He was a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a stepfather, and a friend. He was also the kind of person who created family wherever he went.

His Children

Of all the things Chris accomplished in his life, being a father was among the things he was most proud of.

His son, Christian, held an especially important place in his heart. Chris loved his son deeply and was immensely proud of the young man he was becoming. He wanted the best for Christian and took pride in watching him grow, learn, and find his own way in the world.

Chris also opened his heart and his life to his stepchildren, Mara Lucero, AJ Lucero, and Solomon Watley. Being a stepfather never meant loving them any less. They were his children, and he loved them as such.

He was proud of Mara, AJ, Solomon, and Christian, not simply for what they accomplished, but for who they were. He wanted them to know that they were loved, that they mattered, and that he believed in them.

His children will carry something of Chris with them always—his humor, his stubbornness, his determination, his ability to find a laugh when one was needed, and, most importantly, the love he gave them.

There is no greater legacy a father can leave than knowing his children knew they were loved.

Chris loved his kids more than words can ever adequately express, and he was incredibly proud to be their dad.

His Love

On August 21, 2015, Chris married the love of his life, Taryn Powell.

Together they shared more than eleven years of love, laughter, family, arguments, inside jokes, adventures, ordinary days, difficult days, and countless memories that now mean more than they ever could have known at the time.

Chris was Taryn's husband, partner, and the person with whom she shared the life they built together.

Their life wasn't perfect—and neither of them would probably claim it was. It was real. It was theirs. And it was filled with a love that will not disappear simply because Chris is no longer here.

For Taryn, there will be a lifetime of memories, stories, songs, cars, jokes, and little reminders of Chris that will suddenly appear when she least expects them.

And there will always be one more thing she wishes she could tell him.

One more conversation.

One more laugh.

One more hug.

One more ordinary day.

His Family

Chris was the beloved son of Mike Powell and the late Louise Powell.

He is survived by his father, Mike Powell, who will forever carry the memories of his son and the life they shared.

Chris was preceded in death by his mother, Louise Powell, and his stepmother, Sandy Powell. Though they are no longer here to say goodbye, we can take comfort in imagining that Chris was welcomed by the people who loved him and went before him.

He is also survived by his brother, John Powell.

Chris's family extended beyond biology. He was fortunate to have what he affectionately considered his bonus family—his sister, "Shady" Michelle Lossack, and his brother, Scott Herman.

They were family because they chose to be, because they shared life together, and because love doesn't always require the same last name or the same blood.

And then there were the countless friends who became family along the way.

Chris had a way of collecting people. Some started as friends, some became like brothers and sisters, and some simply became people he could count on. There are undoubtedly more stories, inside jokes, adventures, arguments, laughs, and questionable decisions than could ever fit into an obituary.

And that's exactly how Chris would have wanted it.

A Life Full of Personality

Chris was funny.

Not just occasionally funny.

Chris funny.

He could take a completely ordinary situation and turn it into a story. He had a gift for the perfectly timed comment, the sarcastic observation, and the joke that caught everyone off guard.

He loved music and was a talented musician. He loved sports. He loved cars. He loved working with his hands and figuring things out. He loved a good conversation—and probably loved proving his point even more.

He could be stubborn.

He could be sarcastic.

He could drive you absolutely crazy.

And you loved him anyway.

Because underneath all of that was a man with a tremendous heart.

Chris cared deeply about the people he loved. He showed that love in his own way, sometimes through words, sometimes through actions, and sometimes through a joke when a serious moment became too heavy.

Those who knew him best know that he didn't always have to say "I love you" for you to know it.

Sometimes he showed it simply by being there.

The Memories He Leaves Behind

Chris's life was far too short.

There will be moments when we expect to see him walk through the door, hear his voice, hear his laugh, or hear him make some completely inappropriate comment at exactly the wrong—or perhaps perfect—moment.

There will be songs that bring him back.

Cars that make us think of him.

Places that remind us of him.

And stories that will inevitably begin with:

"Remember when Chris..."

And then everyone will laugh.

Because that's one of the gifts he leaves us—the ability to remember him with laughter instead of only tears.

His family and friends will forever treasure the memories they made with Chris. The big moments and the little ones. The celebrations, the arguments, the adventures, the music, the cars, the jokes, the ridiculous moments, and the completely ordinary days that none of us realized would someday become precious.

Chris leaves behind a hole that cannot be filled.

But he also leaves behind an enormous amount of love.

He leaves behind his wife, Taryn; his children, Christian, Mara, AJ, and Solomon; his father, Mike; his brother, John; his bonus sister, "Shady" Michelle; his bonus brother, Scott; and countless friends and loved ones who were lucky enough to call him family.

And although we would give anything to have him back, we can be grateful for every moment we were given.

Until We Meet Again

For those of us left behind, we will miss him like crazy.

Life will never be the same without Chris here.

But love doesn't end when a life does.

Chris will live on through his children, through the family he loved, through the friends who became family, and through every person whose life he touched.

He will live on in Christian, Mara, AJ, and Solomon—in the people they become, the lives they build, and the memories they carry of their dad and stepdad.

And perhaps that is the greatest thing Chris could have left behind.

He was loved.

He loved deeply.

He was proud of his children.

And he made an impact that will continue long after August 19, 2026.

Chris, we love you.

We miss you.

We wish you were still here.

But we will carry you with us for the rest of our lives.

Rest easy, Chris.

Your work here is done.

Go find Mom, Sandy, and everyone else waiting for you.

Save us a seat.

We'll see you again when our work here is done.

Service Information

A private memorial service will be held in accordance with the family's wishes.