This is the page we never wanted to pen about a man who we hoped would never leave us. John Raymond Filippone was born on April 9, 1928 in Passaic, New Jersey and left this world peacefully on April 19, 2020. He parts with his beloved wife of 65 years, Rose Marie (Ricci) Filippone, son John and wife Jill Filippone, daughter Robyn and husband Fred Hemsey, granddaughters Regina and husband Mike Kennedy, Francesca along with husband James Cwynar, and countless other family and friends. He was predeceased by his parents Jack and Stella, and siblings Thelma, Jim, and Rose Anne. John’s love is eternal and the mark he left on the world is indelible. Everything we ever did in this life he was witness to. Everywhere we will ever go in this life, he will still go too.
John was a doting husband, an attentive father, a passionate grandfather, a dutiful citizen, an Army veteran of the Korean War, a loving friend, and a servant of God. He was everyone’s Pop. Magic flowed from his laughter and fed the laughter in others. He danced his way through 92 years, a smile never far from his lips. He taught us to sail, he taught us to swing, and he taught us to dream. He dove into the deep end and made sure everyone knew how to swim.
Papa had not one unkind word to say, unless it had to do with Regina’s tattoos of course. Ever the jokester, he had a trick up his sleeve for every occasion be it a fart machine, a bag of warm socks masquerading as bagels, or a speaker in his Halloween pumpkin to greet unassuming children. Ever Mr. Fixit, he had a solution for most troubles in his workshop. Sadly, he will not mend our broken hearts with his beloved tools but the memories of his life so well and fully lived will suffice.
Papa skied and scuba dove the world over. He wanted to see Sicily, so he did. He wanted to play in the pep band, so he did. He wanted to embody the spirit of Santa for the masses, so he did. He wanted to see the Pope, so he did. He lived his life in service to the most vulnerable among us. He lived his life for his family and strangers alike. He lived his life for his beloved Rosie. He loved this country of ours with every fiber of his being, a hero of a generation we will likely never know again. He reminded us that you need not have a lot to be the richest man in the world.
We built igloos, and swam in creeks, and caught crabs out of the bay. His fingers mended every boo boo and tied every knot. His zest for life cannot be contained, nor his impact measured. His signature is left the world round, his spirit larger than life. We are so thankful he was ours. He is ours.