Todd W. Murray, 57, of Oblong, IL, passed away on February 12, 2026, at Aperion Care in Vincennes, IN. He was born on October 14, 1968, in Robinson, IL, and he grew up outside of Robinson on a pig farm, where life teaches you the kind of lessons that stick: how to work, how to notice what needs doing, and how to take care of what is yours. He helped his dad farm, and those early years left him with a farmhand’s heart that never really moved out.
Todd’s dad was a preacher, and Todd learned what it meant to live with conviction and community all around you. But Todd had another world that called to him, too, and it was loud and full of amps and guitars. Somewhere along the way, “Todd” started going by “Bubba,” mostly because it gave him a little room to be himself in the music scene without feeling like everything would circle back to his dad. The nickname stuck, and so did the spirit behind it: he could come off tougher than you expected, but if you stayed around long enough, you found what was underneath.
Because Todd was never just one thing. He had a good heart, but he sometimes had a hard time showing it. He could be a bear, but he was a teddy underneath. He could be something of a grouch, and somehow it still suited him. He was not always patient, but he was sincere. He cared so much. Sometimes he cared so much that it spilled out in odd ways, like giving things away that were not his to give, not because he was careless, but because his first instinct was generosity. It all came wrapped in the same packaging: a man wired with tenderness on the inside and toughness on the outside.
And then, not long after school, that toughness got tested. Todd had a motorcycle accident in the late 1980s, and after that came many surgeries and a long stretch of limited mobility that shaped most of his adult life. Over time it meant crutches, then a wheelchair, and a constant negotiation with a body that would not cooperate the way he wanted it to. It kept him from a lot of jobs he would have done if his health had been better, but it never really took away the thing at the center of him: he wanted to work, he wanted to provide, and he wanted to be useful.
So he did what he could, whenever he could. He worked at Hershey for a time. He did all kinds of random jobs with his dad, including construction. He mowed yards for a while. He worked as a local farm hand, which is where his heart truly was, because that kind of work felt familiar and honest. Near the end of his working life, he worked briefly for Stewart Security, but even after he stopped for good, he kept the posture of a working man. He still thought in terms of showing up, fixing what needed fixed, and helping where he could.
And Todd did help. He was friendly, and it was easy for him to make friends, because he met people without a filter of judgment. If someone was stuck on the side of the road, he would swoop in. If someone needed a hand, he was the kind of guy who tried to figure it out with you. He did work for a lot of people, and he held his friends close. They mattered to him, deeply, and he carried them in his heart.
That same loyalty poured into his family. Todd was determined to help his kids be good people and to teach them to see the good in people. He was a teacher and a shower, and he was detailed in the way he tried to pass down what he knew. He had his kids involved in sports and band, too, and he had them doing a lot, because he believed in giving them a life with momentum and purpose. And even when relationships around him were complicated, even when there was fighting or drama, he showed up anyway, because being present mattered to him more than being comfortable.
But he didn’t only show up for the hard things. He also let himself receive the good things of life. He loved the kind of joy you could schedule, the kind you could circle on a calendar, and bowling gave him that. Leagues, Saturdays at the alley, that familiar mix of competition and community. And sports gave him the same thing in a different form, with football at the center, because the Green Bay Packers were his team and he watched every game he could.
When Todd wanted a different kind of joy, one that didn’t need a scoreboard, he went looking for water. Fishing gave him quiet and space, the kind of peace you can feel in your shoulders. The Wabash River, farm ponds, friends’ ponds, places where you could sit for a while and let the world slow down. Those were Todd’s reset moments, where presence came easier and the day could be enough.
And when Todd wanted that same kind of comfort without leaving home, he found it in the kitchen. He loved to cook, and he had his own signatures, like the “Wesley Special”: potatoes, sausage, onions, and cheese, the kind of meal that feels like care you can taste. It fit him that one of his best-known comforts was something he could make with his own hands, because Todd’s love was usually hands-on. He carried a deep desire to do right by his kids, to provide, to protect, to teach. He wanted them to learn how to work and provide for themselves, and he wanted them to grow up seeing good in people, because that’s the kind of world he was always trying to build around them.
Todd wasn’t perfect, but he was full-hearted. His love didn’t always come out in polished words, it came out in effort, in presence, in trying again. Under the toughness was a man who wanted to do right by his people. Even now, what remains most true is this: he mattered, and he will keep mattering.
You will never be forgotten and will live on in our hearts.
Todd is survived by his partner, Trimeka Madison; his children & their spouses, Elizabeth & Kyle Stafford, Mathew Murray, Rebecca & Jimmie Tracy, Grace Murray, and KJ Davis; by his grandchildren, Chloe Garner, Taylor Tracy, Carter Tracy, Caidee Tracy, Jackson Tracy, and Mason Tracy; by his mother, Hazel (Wesley) Murray; by his sister, Karen Coit; as well as several nieces and nephews. He was preceded in death by his father, David L. Murray; by his sister, Kathy (Murray) Correll; and by his brother, Michael Murray.
Todd is to be cremated, and a family-guided memorial will be held at a later date. The Goodwine Funeral Home in Robinson is assisting the family at this time. In honor of his love of sports, memorials may be made to the Oblong Booster Club.
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