John Sokalski

John grew up in Rosemont, Montreal and spent the majority of his life in Greenfield Park, Quebec, where he built his life centred on family, curiosity, and a quiet appreciation for the world around him.

He is survived by his beloved wife of nearly 46 years, Gail Sokalski (Thomson), and by his loving children: Christina (Josalynn), Katrina (Zander) & Eric (Itzel). He was also a proud and devoted grandfather to Kilian (Christina/Josalynn), who brought him immense joy every day.

John was someone who would do anything for his family and for those lucky enough to be in his circle. He spent his entire life ensuring they were not only taken care of, but deeply loved and celebrated at every moment. He made it his life’s mission to ensure his family felt and had all the things he felt he didn’t. Even for the smallest, seemingly menial moments, he was always beaming with pride- and made it known.

John also had a lifelong passion for astronomy. He spent countless nights under the stars, patiently capturing the beauty of distant galaxies, nebulae, and planets through his telescope. Through his lens, he preserved light that had traveled across thousands—and even millions—of years, sharing with others a sense of wonder that defined how he saw the universe. Whether photographing Saturn’s rings or distant galaxies, he found peace and perspective in the vastness above, and he passed that sense of awe on to those around him.

He will be remembered for his kindness, his quiet strength, and the deep love he held for his family. His legacy lives on not only in the memories he created, but in the way he taught others to look up, to be curious, and to find beauty in the infinite.

A private celebration of life will be held with family and friends at a later time per his wishes. In lieu of flowers, the family invites you to take a moment to look up at the night sky, appreciate the beauty of the infinite, enjoy a stroll through nature, or help an animal in need.

He looked at the stars with wonder, and now rests among them - the light he loved to capture continuing on, just as he does, in the same stardust he spent his life admiring.