Robert Paul Kelly

Robert Paul Kelly (aka “Kell”)
October 2,1945 – May 26, 2026 

If you’d ever met our dad, you’d quickly recognize two things about him. He wanted zero fanfare, and he was one of the most selfless people you’d ever come across. 

So it’s no surprise he wanted no funeral, no wake, no to-do about his passing. No burial and no ceremony. A mass, yes. He was a man of faith, after all. 

Dad was born and raised in Hawley, Pennsylvania, not far from the shores of Lake Wallenpaupack. His first official job came at age 12, where he worked at a dress mill with a coterie of older ladies. He was always the domestic standout in the house: sewing buttons, fixing zippers, making dinner, cleaning up. He was also an expert tinkerer and handyman, fixing everything from burst pipes and frazzled ovens to warm fridges and staticky tv sets with little more than duct tape and grit. Born in 1945, he was far ahead of his time, which made us kids far ahead of ourtime growing up with his example. 

Dad met mom—Margaret Knash, the love of his life—shortly after high school, and they married in August 1967. Bob and Peg relocated to New York’s Hudson Valley where they raised their two kids, Colleen and Patrick. August 26 of this year would have marked their 59th anniversary. 

Dad taught middle school science for more than 30 years, but his true passion was giving. When Patrick showed an early penchant for golf, he brought him to golf lessons with a coach who taught Jack Nicklaus. When Colleen decided to study pharmacy, he arranged for local professors to get her through organic chemistry over the summer. And when mom rose in her career and worked longer hours, Dad was always there holding down the house, running the kids around, always a calming presence. 

This also included allowing Patrick to order duck and shark as a teenager, teaching Colleen to drive stick shift to the peril of all within 10 car lengths, and taking us all to fabulous beach trips from Cape Cod and Long Beach Island to Ocean City and even Cancun. By the way, he hated the beach. 

Kell—as anyone who knew him well called him—was quiet. But his actions spoke his truth. A stubborn Irishman, he hated change, yet managed to adapt to eight decades with a spirit befitting a saint. Sometimes doing the right thing at the right time is the hardest human act. And dad did that, for 80 years. 

Did he once set a lawnmower on fire? Did he simply blow a whistle to get us kids home for dinner in the feral 80s? Did he shop all the deals at the local supermarket to the point where we can pinpoint the correct price of milk to this day within a penny? These are anecdotes in a life that shaped our future lives, that made his kids and their kids who we all are today. 

When we think about Dad, we think about a man who is an exemplar of generosity, self-sacrifice, and humility. He followed rules—just try playing a board game with him— and didn’t need compliments. He was always there for you no matter what mess you found yourself in. And he was great at Trivial Pursuit. 

Dad is survived by Colleen Russell in Punta Gorda, Florida, and her two boys, Liam and Ethan Russell, who live in Connecticut; and Patrick Kelly, in Atlanta, and his daughter June. He was an amazing and proud grandfather to all three. While he was reticent to adults, he was a ham to anyone under six. He’s also survived by his sister, Kathleen, of Fort Myers, Florida. And of course, Peg, who still misses him every single day in Little River, South Carolina. 

Rest in power, Dad. You shaped more lives and set more good examples than you know. We all love you. 

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