Gary G Brassard

Gary G. Brassard, 73 of Franklin, NH left the planet on May 20, 2025. He was predeceased by his parents Amedee "Mickey" Brassard and Frances (Whitehead) Brassard. He is survived by his brother Frank A. Brassard and his wife Elaine (Thomann) Brassard, nephew Joshua Brassard and niece Heather (Brassard) Stanley. Gary leaves behind his beloved cousins Jill (Whitehead) Kenney and Judy (Whitehead) Branthover, as well as many extended family members.

Gary was very specific on his wishes and thoughts in his final days. First and foremost, he leaves behind his beloved Tina (Hanson)Soule. Tina was his soulmate, lifelong companion, best friend, and "the wife I never had." Ethan Oscar Soule, who Gary always loved like a grandson. Gary expressed his eternal thanks to Richard Crowley Jr., who was instrumental in Gary's final days, as well as the entire Crowley family for their love and support through the years. James De Bernardo, the "son I never had, I am so proud of you."

Gary graduated from Franklin High School in 1969. As a lifelong resident of Franklin, NH, Gary enjoyed his home away from home at Webster Lake. He was an avid Antique dealer and collector, and he loved all his treasures. He created many friendships along the way, "I will miss you all dearly."

In Gary's last days he donated $1,000.00 to the Franklin Outing Club, $1,000.00 to the Franklin Clothes Closet, $1,000.00 to Franklin's future ice skating rink. He challenges those to match his donations or offer what you can.

Gary will rest at his favorite places in Franklin, Easy Street and Apple Farm Road.

"Peace Out"

"See you in the next world, don't be late"

To honor Gary’s wishes, there are no services scheduled.

If—

A Poem by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!