In Memory of Warren Don Potts (September 10, 1986 – June 12, 2026)

By Cliff Potts
June 16, 2026

On June 12, 2026, my son, Warren Don Potts, passed away at the age of 39.

No parent expects to outlive a child. No parent ever wants to write an obituary for their son. Yet here I am, trying to find the words to describe a man I loved, admired, worried about, laughed with, argued with, and was proud to call my son.

Warren was many things during his life. He was a son, a friend, a sailor, a musician, a gamer, a computer enthusiast, and a man with a sharp sense of humor that could make people laugh when they least expected it. He had a dry wit, a sarcastic streak, and a talent for delivering a perfectly timed comment. In that regard, he took after his father more than either of us probably cared to admit.

He loved music. Warren played both keyboard and guitar. He understood the kind of creativity that comes from sitting down with an instrument and simply seeing where it would take you. He also loved technology. Computers, coding, gaming, and figuring out how things worked were interests that stayed with him throughout his life.

He was also an animal lover. Dogs and cats found an easy friend in him. People who knew Warren knew that beneath the humor and occasional sarcasm was a genuinely caring person with a soft spot for the creatures that shared our lives.

One of the accomplishments of which he was most deserving of pride was his service aboard the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise (CVN-65). Warren served aboard Enterprise during her final years of active service, becoming part of the long history of one of the most famous warships ever to sail under the American flag.

Like many fathers and sons, our relationship changed over the years. We shared many good years together. We talked, argued, laughed, worked through life’s challenges, and occasionally got into trouble together. He was not only my son; for many years he was also my friend and, as I often joked, my partner in crime.

In 2023, our relationship became strained and eventually estranged. To this day, I do not fully understand why. There are questions that will never be answered now, conversations that will never happen, and words that will remain forever unspoken.

That reality is difficult to accept.

But grief has a way of clarifying what matters.

The disagreements become smaller. The misunderstandings lose their importance. What remains are the memories of a young man growing up, discovering the world, serving his country, playing music, making people laugh, caring for animals, and bringing his own dry, sharp, unmistakable humor into the lives of the people who knew him.

When I look at photographs of Warren, including the one taken in August 2023, I do not think first about the years we spent apart. I think about the years before that. I remember the conversations, the jokes, the music, the computers, the dogs, the cats, and the countless ordinary moments that make up a life. I remember my son.

There is a line from the children’s book Love You Forever that has been echoing in my thoughts since his passing:

“I’ll love you forever,
I’ll like you for always,
As long as I’m living,
My baby you’ll be.”

For a parent, those words never stop being true.

Warren Don Potts is survived by his mother, his father, his daughter, and his five brothers and sisters.

He also leaves behind friends, shipmates, and others whose lives were touched by his presence. He will be remembered for his intelligence, his humor, his service, his kindness, and the memories he leaves behind.

Fair winds and following seas, Warren.

You were loved more than you knew, and you will be missed more than words can say.