In Memory of




Obituary for Paul James Kennedy

Paul James Kennedy, 64, made his last wildly inappropriate and probably sarcastic comment on January 9, 2022. It is believed it was the carrying of four 2 litre bottles of Pepsi allll the way from his truck to his fridge (you gotta have mix and it was on sale damn it!) that made his heart give out.

He left behind a hell of a lot of stuff for his sons who have no idea what to do with it. So if you’re looking for any number of knick knacks, far too many articles of Dallas Cowboys clothing, a large variety of remotes that may or may not actually
work and a complete collection of mint 1980's Playboy magazines, you should wait the appropriate amount of time and get in touch. Tomorrow would be fine.

This is not, however, an ad for a pawn shop, but an obituary for a great man, father, brother and uncle born on August 9, 1957 in Toronto, the son of Gary and Dawn (Curry). He leaves behind a very dysfunctional family and one he was very
proud of: sons Shane (Paula Popescu) and Keegan who are predeceased by their mother and Paul’s second wife Wanda Pikor; sisters Cynthia and Kim (Robertson); brother Gregg, and former wife Valerie Carew. He is predeceased by older
brother Michael and seven of the finest Bernese Mountain Dogs the world has ever seen. Trust us, Paul's demise will now allow them to emerge from his shadow. A boatload of nieces, nephews and cousins would complete the list of those left to embellish his memory.

Paul somehow made it through the public school systems of both Toronto and Ottawa and even briefly attended the University of Toronto in the early 70's. After U of T, he managed to con a family friend into helping him gain employment with Bell Canada where he "worked" for over 30 years. Looking back, Paul stated that there was no better group of clowns and incompetents than those he had the privilege of serving with (except Bob, he never liked you, Bob).

Paul was world-renowned for his lack of patience, not holding back his opinion and a knack for telling it like it is. He always told you the truth even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. With that said, he was genuine to a fault and a pussy
cat at heart. He just didn't believe in sugar coating anything. His extensive vocabulary allowed him to be more than highly proficient at knowing more curse words than most people learned in a lifetime. He liked four letter words as much as he loved his Cowboys and trust us he LOVED dem 'Boys. His words of encouragement, wisdom, and sometimes comfort, kept us in line, taught us the school of hard knocks and gave us something to pass down to our children someday. You always knew where you stood with him. He liked you or he didn’t, it was black or white. Fittingly, he was never one for sentiment or religiosity, but we're sure he would want you to know if he owes you a drink, and if you can find him in Heaven, he will gladly allow you to buy him another. He can likely be found sitting at a table boring other patrons with useless bits of information regarding the Cowboys, any of the instalments of the Law & Order franchise or the Clint
Eastwood filmography. If you miss the start of a story, don't worry, just come back the next day and he'll tell it again.

He was a master griller on a barbeque, firmly believing no piece of any meat could ever be under cooked enough. That "secret" red sauce turning your mashed potatoes pink? Blood from the rarest cooked steak just this side of blue.

He loved his years spent curling at the Navy Club in Ottawa and was damn good at it too; just ask him. He spoke fondly of the many friends he made at "The Club" and we feel confident half a dozen or so of these folks might speak fondly of him too...if pressed. He also enjoyed a round of golf or two in his younger years with the irony that both endeavours could easily be accompanied by alcohol and cigarettes lost on no one.

Paul was an armchair quarterback, a network television afficionado, a pop-culture encyclopedia and always the most sarcastic person at any social gathering. He died knowing Shawshank is the best movie ever made, Sean Connery was hands down the best Bond, "Robert Gordon" (that's Bobby Orr to you or I) was the greatest hockey player of all time, Sinatra at the Sands is the all-time best live recording in music history and Clint Eastwood is the baddest man on the planet.

His regrets were few but include eating a rotisserie hot dog from a convenience store in the summer of 2002, too few years spent with his Grandfather Bill Curry and uncle Barry and that no video evidence exists of his prowess on the soccer pitch or in the bedroom.

There will be a proper, formal viewing if only because we refuse to honour his request to simply stand him up in the corner of the room, drink in hand so he would appear natural to visitors.

If you are unable to attend the service or, more likely, unwilling to risk your attendance becoming public knowledge, well-wishers are encouraged to write a note of farewell on a 40 of Captain Morgan or Wisers and drink it in his honour. Or simply raising a glass of your favourite drink in his memory would be quite appropriate.

Instead of flowers, Paul would hope that you will do an unexpected and unsolicited act of kindness for some poor unfortunate soul in his name or slip his brother an envelope of cash.

He loved his family and cared for them through good times and bad; He did his best.

Paul Kennedy Funeral Live Stream