Gerald Fortier

On September 20th, 2021 my dad, Gerald Paul Fortier passed away peacefully after a short battle with pulmonary fibrosis. He is survived by his older sister Eileen Walecka, his wife Sheila Fortier, son Scott Fortier and his husband Alex Waddell. His wishes were for no services and the family is honoring that. In lieu of flowers, please reach out to his favorite charity, Saint Jude.

My dad was a complex person. He was born on October 5th, 1941 to Rhea and Stephen Fortier, Jr. His childhood was the likes of The Little Rascals, spending lots of time in his New Bedford neighborhood and the summers at the Hughes family cottage at Snow’s Pond. He would always refer to Mrs. Hughes as his other mother. Until his final days, my father still had his childhood friends in his life. One of his favorite movies was A Christmas Story. He would always tell me, “that was my childhood” and laugh so hard when the little brother came out into the cold, barely able to move in his snow suit. The importance that my father placed on his family and friends was paramount to his existence.

My father enjoyed everything that the great outdoors offered. He marveled at the majesty of mountains and the serenity of a trickling stream. He had a love for plants, which lead him to his work as a landscaper. He never took a day or moment for granted.

Like a lot of people, my father struggled with addiction for a great deal of his young life. In his forties, my father chose a path of self-improvement. He found fellowship, no…family, in a 12-step program. Just like his childhood friends, his friends from his earliest days in “the program” were with him until the end. As with everything my father did, he threw himself into the lifelong process of self-discovery and within that process, helped so many people along the way, including myself.

My father was put on this earth to help people and in turn, helped himself. His addiction, after the addiction, was touching people. He loved to connect with people. He had the innate ability to truly speak to a person. He had a talent for listening, cutting through all the “noise” and boiling it down to what he called, “simple stupid”. He was an old soul.

He spent his final months perched on the front porch of their home in Sassaquin, the house so close to the street that he could continue to reach out to people without having to walk and expend energy. One of our last times together, sitting on that porch, he said to me “See her? She never looks this way when she walks by but I always say hi to her. Sooner or later, she’ll say hi back. It’s a game I play.” That was my dad.

I will miss him deeply. One day, my husband asked me, “who is your best friend?” I said, “my dad”. I am the person I am today because of the sum of my experiences with him, bad and good. I always told him that I was proud of that. He will live on through the people who he touched with his simple wisdom and the people that they touch and so on.

May his memory be a blessing to all the people he touched. There were many. For online tribute: www.rock-funeralhome.com.