Pierre Roy
In loving memory of Pierre Roy, born in Granby, beloved son of Hector and Antoinette Roy, cherished brother of Cossette, Lise, and Raymond. He is survived by his son Jonathan and his daughter Lisa-Marie. May his kindness, laughter, and love continue to live on in our hearts.
His story
My father was an extraordinary man. His passion for Halloween overflowed with deep affection for children. It's one of the many reasons why he loved Halloween so much. He took great pleasure in seeing them amazed.
Every year, he embarked on a special mission: buying 200 pumpkins that he meticulously carved by hand on weekday evenings before Halloween. With patience and creativity, he brought them to life, one by one, giving them unique faces and piercing a hole to slide in a small bulb.
Yes, all 200 pumpkins were illuminated. With these illuminated pumpkins, he created a pathway leading to a giant pumpkin he had crafted from wood. Inside this gigantic pumpkin, he welcomed thousands of children who came to experience it. Every year, he bought crates and crates of candy to meet the ever-growing demand. Even Hydro-Québec joined his event by dimming the street lights to enhance the atmosphere of his illuminated pathway.
This initiative sparked enthusiasm in the neighborhood, encouraging everyone to decorate more and creating a genuine passion for Halloween. That's the kind of man my father was.
He loved to make children's dreams come true. I remember once when I began to doubt the existence of Santa Claus after hearing classmates at school say he didn't exist.
On Christmas Eve, after opening presents, my father called me, claiming to have seen something in the chimney. Intrigued, I approached, and as I looked up, I saw a gift stuck in the chimney, especially for me. The proof was there: Santa Claus did exist. That was my father's spirit, always ready to make the impossible possible to make us smile. That's the kind of man my father was.
Outside of holidays, my father was a passionate hairdresser. For him, this profession was much more than cutting hair; it was an opportunity to build connections, share stories, and laughter with his clients. His authenticity and love for people shone through in every conversation.
He was a natural storyteller, not because he invented stories, but because he had the gift of recounting events and making us feel like we were there. He could captivate his audience with lively narratives and thrilling anecdotes. I could listen to his stories for hours without ever getting tired.
My father was a proud man, proud of many things. He was proud to personally know people, proud of his negotiating skills. My father enjoyed taking on challenges and savoring victories.
He loved negotiating and had great skill in this art. Nothing made him happier than winning a negotiation. He particularly enjoyed negotiating the price of hotel rooms during our annual vacations at our family beach, Hampton Beach, a beautiful commercial beach offering everything children love: the best pizza in the world at Marcantonio's, sold by the slice. Two huge arcades where I spent my evenings spending quarters. Stalls selling beaver tails, fudge, popcorn, and giant hot dogs... all the treats that children love. Every day, returning from the beach, my father gave me money to buy a large box of popcorn for the whole family. I loved those vacations, I loved that place, I loved that man who did everything to give me the most beautiful childhood possible.
Now, as a father myself, I want to embody at least half of the extraordinary man my father was. My daughter Anna, whom I love more than anything, would have loved to know him, and she would have returned that love with all the tenderness of her heart.
Thank you, Dad, for illuminating my life with your presence. I miss you every day, but your legacy of love and generosity continues to inspire me. From your little guy who loves you forever.
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