Jean - Guy Dussault

Jean-Guy M. Dussault of Southbury, Connecticut, passed away on Saturday, September 26, 2026, leaving behind many whom he loved and who love him dearly. He was 80 years old, just a few months shy of his 81st birthday and though he is no longer here, the presence he brought to the lives of those closest to him remains.

Born on December 19, 1945, in Lewiston, Maine, Jean-Guy was the youngest of five born to Adrienne Pariseau and Maurice Dussault. He grew up alongside his siblings Doris, Richard, Donald, and Dolores, spending his early years in Lewiston, including time working in the local mills, before proudly joining the United States Air Force. He served two tours in the Vietnam War, working in mapping and surveying, and was honorably discharged at the rank of Staff Sergeant. It was around the time that his service was ending that he met Laura, his soon-to-be bride. It didn't take long for them to decide to marry, and together they built a life that would span 56 years.

Jean-Guy went on to earn his degree in electrical engineering and build a career that included work at a company specializing in ultrasonic cleaning. His work gave him opportunities to travel to many countries and led to earning patents for his contributions.

Engineering was his chosen trade, but Jean-Guy naturally had the mind and sensibilities of an engineer in every sense. Analytical and independent in his thinking, he had a gift for reasoning his way toward a solution. He could appreciate both the underlying complexity of a problem and its most essential answer and was naturally drawn to discovering how and why things worked rather than simply accepting that they did.

This way of thinking extended into all aspects of his life. It was evident in the projects he undertook around the house, his enthusiasm for learning new technology, and his endless search for gadgets that could make everyday life a little easier or more efficient. Of course, when there wasn't a gadget to do what he needed, he'd often design a solution of his own.

Largely self-taught in many of his interests, Jean-Guy had a remarkable ability to build on what he knew and figure out what he didn't. When his daughter recently asked how he'd learned to do so many things in the days before the internet, he distilled his approach into just two words: "Books and logic." A fittingly uncomplicated answer that somehow explained it all.

A man of unassuming strength and conviction, Jean-Guy had a strong sense of duty and a deeply held appreciation for the concept of responsibility. He was a grounding presence for those who loved him, someone who could make the difficult feel manageable and who could always be counted on. His principles were fundamental to who he was, as was his desire to see the people he loved do well.

Family was a source of great pride and happiness for Jean-Guy. He took genuine pleasure in the accomplishments of those he loved, both big and small, and especially enjoyed the times everyone came together for holidays and family gatherings.

Proud of his French-Canadian heritage, he enjoyed exploring his family history and maintaining connections with relatives in Canada. His home state of Maine also held a special place in his heart, with many fond memories of family trips to Rangeley Lake and Old Orchard Beach.

For all the places his military service and career had taken him, Jean-Guy didn't need to travel far to find things he deeply appreciated. Sometimes, all the day needed, was a cup of coffee and a little time sitting outside on the back deck. He took genuine pleasure in caring for his home and yard, loved to mow the grass, and enjoyed growing tomatoes.

Winter had its own traditions, with puzzles to work on, UConn men's and women's basketball games to follow, and time spent feeding and watching the backyard birds. Model trains were another hobby that stayed with him from childhood into his later years.

And we'd be leaving out something important if we didn't mention Jean-Guy's love of good food. He adored a good seafood dinner out (most especially at Chick-A-Dee in Maine), loved a steak on the grill, and always had a special fondness for the French-Canadian dishes he grew up with, like cretons, salmon sauce, yellow split pea soup, and blueberry dumplings.

Although his strength was never loud or showy, Jean-Guy was sustained by the determination and resilience that had always been part of his character throughout his long illness. He approached each obstacle with an enduring belief that there was still a way forward. As long as there was an option to keep fighting, he was determined to take it.

With Jean-Guy's strong will and his wife Laura's determination alongside him, he succeeded in facing his illness on his own terms, gaining years that many medical professionals hadn't thought possible. Those additional years brought some of their family's most treasured memories, and his family is profoundly grateful that he was able to walk beside them for as long as he did.

Jean-Guy seemed to instinctively understand that life didn't always unfold according to plan. He met its uncertainties with a little practicality, a lot of perspective, and often a quiet sense of humor that showed itself in little expressions that were distinctly his own. "It is what it are" as he'd like to say.

Jean-Guy is survived by his wife, Laura; his daughter, Adrienne, and son-in-law, Chris; his brother, Donald, and sister-in-law, Lorraine; his sister, Dolores; his sister-in-law, Linda, and brother-in-law, Faruque; and many beloved nieces and nephews.

His absence is deeply felt, but so is the lasting influence of a life well lived. It's often said that more is caught than taught, and Jean-Guy was an example of just that. For those who knew him, the lessons found in the way he lived were many: think independently, stand by what you believe, and meet life's challenges with steady resolve.

Perhaps the best way to remember Jean-Guy is to go out and enjoy some of the things that made him happiest: take a drive to see the fall leaves, put on a good sci-fi movie, sit outside to feel the breeze, or enjoy a cup of coffee in a favorite chair.

He'd want to remind you to become who you are becoming, to not make life more complicated than it needs to be, and to trust yourself to figure things out along the way. To of course fill life with the big, important things, but maybe more importantly fill it with a million of the little things. And to take reassurance in knowing that even when the answers aren't immediately clear, there's always a way to find them.

In lieu of flowers, the family requests that any desired donations be made to an organization supporting military veterans. That would make him most happy (and proud).