Raymond Thomas Savoy

As the old saying goes, 'All things must pass,' and on June 5, 2026, it was officially my time to head down the long and winding road. Now, I know what you’re probably thinking: 'Ray, how on earth are you writing your own send-off?' Well, I’ve always been full of surprises, and I figured I wasn't about to let a little thing like checking out stop me from having the final word. I’ve moved on from this stage of the journey, but don’t you worry, the show isn't over yet. I’m still here in spirit, probably drumming along to a Beatles track, keeping an eye out for a good flea market find, and making sure the music never really stops.

I was never just about the grind; I was a man who lived his life to a soundtrack, and for me, that soundtrack was exclusively the Fab Four. My love for the Beatles arguably bordered on obsession, but honestly, can you blame me? Their music provided the heartbeat of my existence, influencing everything from my steady work ethic to my creative spirit—and it was the very rhythm to which I drummed my life. Sitting behind the kit was more than a hobby; it was an extension of my soul and the instrument through which I channeled my raw, percussive energy. Whether I was locked into a complex track, trying to replicate Ringo’s iconic fills, or simply quoting "In My Life" to Beverly, I was playing with a beat that could shake the stars. It wasn't just fandom or technical skill; it was how I lived, guided by the wisdom that in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. I like to think that even now, somewhere beyond the noise of the everyday, I’m still keeping the beat, drumming along to the soundtrack of a life well-lived.

Beyond the music and the drums, I had a profound appreciation for the cinematic genius of George Romero, never passing up the chance to dive into a good horror flick, and I wore my love for life on my sleeve—literally—through my ever-growing collection of tattoos, each one a chapter in my own personal story. My weekends were often defined by the thrill of the hunt; you’d frequently find me scouring flea markets and antique stores, chasing the high of discovering a hidden treasure among the dust and relics. When I wasn't searching for vintage gems, I was likely cheering on my beloved New York Yankees with unwavering loyalty or simply heading out for a long, aimless drive. There was something meditative about hitting the open road, clearing my head, and just letting the miles roll by—it was my version of freedom, and I cherished every moment of it.

Of all the treasures I’ve found in this life, nothing compares to the moment I met Beverly. I was just 17 years old when our paths first crossed, and I knew right then and there that I had found my person—my rock, my rhythm, and the love of my life. We’ve been inseparable ever since, building a beautiful life together for nearly 53 years. She has been by my side through every adventure, every high, and every low, and looking back, I realize how incredibly lucky I was to share this journey with her. I'd often tell her, "In my life, I love you more," quoting my beloved Beatles.

Together, we poured our hearts into building a home and a family legacy, anchored by our three greatest achievements. We welcomed our firstborn, Brenden, in 1974, who kicked off our journey into parenthood and taught me the true meaning of pride and responsibility from the very start. Then came our daughter, Michelle, in 1980—named, of course, after that beautiful Beatles song. Finally, we completed our trio with our son, Lennon, in 1986, honoring the man whose lyrics guided my life. We didn’t see every single achievement or walk every step for them, but we made sure they knew the most important lesson of all: keep your head high, be proud of who you are, and never take bullshit from anyone. Watching the three of them grow into their own people, standing tall and resilient in this world, has been the absolute highlight of my time on this earth. Seeing them carry forward that fire and that pride—that’s the legacy I’m most proud of.

I leave behind a life defined by the people I have known and the bonds I have forged. To my 11 grandchildren: I hope you all find your own paths and never stop chasing your own dreams. While we may not have been close, you are still a part of my story, and I wish you nothing but the best in all you do. I am also survived by my 5 cats, 6 siblings, along with various extended family and friends; our paths crossed, and for better or worse, those connections were part of the life I lived. In the words of the great John Lennon, "Count your age by friends, not years. Count your life by smiles, not tears".

I don't want any of you moping around. Instead, I request you to gather on Saturday, June 20, 2026, at 12:00 PM EDT at 130 Carew Street, Springfield, Massachusetts, 01104. There, you can share your favorite stories, and I promise, I'll be listening. Please take some time to visit my memorial page. Share your memories and let’s continue the laughter. It's been a wild ride, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. Rock on, folks!