Patsy S. Papasodero

Patsy “Pat” Papasodero, 94, of Schenectady, New York, passed away peacefully at his home on Saturday, July 25, 2026.

A lifelong resident of Schenectady, New York, Pat was born in 1932, the son of the late Nicola and Rose Papasodero. After graduating from Nott Terrace High School, he proudly served in the United States Navy from 1951 to 1954 before being honorably discharged. Upon returning to civilian life, he began a long and dedicated career with the United States Postal Service. In 1957, he married the love of his life, Carmel, and together they built a family filled with love, laughter, and lasting memories. He remained with the Postal Service until his retirement in 1987.

Pat was preceded in death by his beloved wife of 66 years, Carmel. He is survived by his son Anthony Papasodero; his daughters, Gail Forman (Dale) and Julie Hourigan (Michael); his grandsons, Nicholas and Matthew Hourigan; and his sisters, Elizabeth Bitensky (Albert) and Joan Papasodero.

We were lucky to have Dad for 94 years. A long time, yet we would have gladly had another 94 years to relive every moment with him. The ordinary moments of childhood that once seemed so routine have become the memories we treasure most.

More than anything, our Dad, Pat, was a family man. Together with our mother and the three of us, he made our lives special.

As his children, we remember Dad rising before the sun to go fishing and returning home with a catch of bass just as we were waking up. That evening, he would prepare the fish for dinner. Fishing was his favorite hobby, but we think it was more than that. He found peace in the meditative rhythm of the water, the rustling leaves, and the freedom that only nature can provide.

We remember his weekly trips to the corner store to buy the latest fishing magazine. Without fail, he always came home with three packages of M&M's—one for each of us.

We remember Sunday drives into the countryside, where Dad would pull the car over so we could watch cows grazing in the fields or deer emerging from the edge of the woods. At the time, it seemed magical, and somehow it still does.

We remember piling into the unair-conditioned car for summer days at Brown's Beach. Dad taught us how to swim, and we admired how effortlessly he would swim all the way to the dock, wave to us from the water, and then make his way back to shore. We always wished we could swim as far as Dad could.

We never made it to Disneyworld, but we had our own adventures at Storytown USA, Frontier Town, Lake George, and countless other places where Dad created moments that brought joy to our childhood.

Above all, we will remember the man who always listened and always knew the right thing to say. His advice was simple: "Don't give up. Just try your best, and everything will work out." Those words continue to guide us.

Our family would like to thank the earthly angels at The Community Hospice. Because of their attentive and compassionate care, Pat was able to spend the final five months of his life in his own home. They treated him with dignity, kindness, and respect—and, best of all, they made him smile.

Dad, we love you and miss you deeply, but we take comfort in knowing that you are fishing in cool, clear streams.