Robert "The Fish" J. Frechette

Robert “The Fish” John Frechette

Robert “The Fish” John Frechette, 75, died October 24, 2023, in Fort Pierce, Florida.

Mr. Frechette was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and resided in Fort Pierce, Florida.

Robert graduated from Our Lady of Pity in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and served at the Naval Submarine Base New London, Groton, Connecticut, for 9 years.  He enjoyed golfing, fishing, and being with family. He was a huge Patriots fan.
Survivors include his wife, Carol Frechette; daughter, Shannon Frechette; sons, Dean and Dennis Frechette; daughter-in-law, Jeanie Frechette; grandson, Finn Frechette.  He was preceded in death by his mother, Mary Christina Frechette; father, Joseph Leon Arthur Frechette; and brother, Joey Frechette. 

“A Daughter’s Tribute” – Shannon Frechette
Alarms in my head and a trained nursing ear, I heard the change in his breathing. I awoke in a fog after not sleeping for over 24 hours.  A call to my mom went to voicemail…she left here exhausted and scatterbrained.  A good night’s sleep was what her body craved after being at his bedside all day. The 55 years of ups and downs, traditions and celebrations, broken hearts and accomplishments, building a life with your “one and only” is truly inspirational consummation.
My colleagues laid their healing hands on my dad all day…keeping him here so my brothers, sis-n-law, my man, and his 7-year-old grandson could say their goodbyes.  A sense of relief overcame me, knowing my compassionate teammates were caring for him.  Justin and I stayed at his bedside all night, fulfilling my promise to be here with him and hold his hand until the very end…I could not waiver.

Dad was a self-taught navy man; his persistent and efficient personality molded me into the person I am today. Nursing was my calling, and I grew up with a foundation of doing nothing “half-ass” as he called it.  You see things through to the end…and then some!!!

Dean, the eldest of the twins, left New Orleans and arrived Sunday night.  Dad was still alert and giving him the usual sarcastic lip in one breath, and in the other, asking what football game was on the boob tube.  Memories of our trip from Mardis Gras echoed in my head. Dad doing a jig, as he caught his first set of beads during one of the many parades. We loved taking our family adventures.

Dennis, the youngest of the twins, lived here, three houses away. Florida Crackers…they were born here after my mom and dad transplanted from their New England Graceland.  Dad was great with projects, and Dennis always had a 100-step idea that my dad engineered into an indestructible piece of quality work.  “Safety Always!” was his motto at the power plant nearby.
Jeanie came into our family next.  Her love for my brother was something Dad commented on often with pride and joy.  Being with a Frechette takes some tolerance with all our strong personalities and quirky family dynamics.  Dad awoke, and after a quick gander around the CVICU room, said “where’s Jeanie?” Having all his family around to share memories always gave him undeniable comfort, as evidenced by the smile on his face.

Then on 3-7-2016 the cries of Finn Sebastian Frechette made Dad a proud grandpa for the first time. Swollen blue eyes and tiny tears flooded his face that he had buried in Jeanie’s hip when he saw “Pepe” lying in bed.  He took it well.  Memories of Auntie’s photobooks over the last 7 years will secure a place in his heart forever. 

Ruth, Dean’s better half, lol. Her thoughtfulness shines through with every family occasion.  She makes sure to send her thoughts and prayers with us always whenever she can’t be here. Dad was content to know we all have someone that enhances his children’s lives.  Their happiness is his happiness. 

Lastly, my main squeeze, Justin.  My dad shared his ability to push my buttons with his sarcasm, lol. Both knew what got me riled up, and always took part in teasing me and waiting for the most evident eyeroll.  He loved teasing his “little girl.”

A change in the heart rate and his final relaxation in breathing told me he was ready to go.  A whisper of “I love you, Dad” and a gentle acknowledging squeeze from his hand told me he was leaving us, and he knew I was there.  His last breaths, comfortable.  His swift passing, appreciated.  My hate for the melanoma that caused this spiral suddenly changed to relief that it took him quick, and he did not spend months or years struggling with the grueling fight of cancer that some often endure, just to buy a few more moments in time. 

My dad was at peace and found his place in Heaven. And, because of the family my dad created among us…I can live on with no regrets.