Charles “Chuck” Clayton Squire, age 77, of Roxbury, CT passed away peacefully in the comfort of his home with his children by his side on April 3, 2022. Chuck was born February 20, 1945, son of the late Horace and Amelia Squire. He is survived by his daughter, Anne Barrett and her husband Andrew Barrett of Colorado Springs, CO, his son Craig Squire and his wife Nydia Squire of Harwinton, CT and his beloved grandchildren Ava Barrett and Wyatt Squire.
Chuck was laid to rest at Weller Cemetery on Hemlock Road in Roxbury.
His daughter shared these final words at Chuck’s graveside…
“We have all been brought here, to this place, on top of a quiet hill that many people would never even know is here as they drive by hurrying to their next destination. It’s down an old dirt road in a tiny beautiful town in New England surrounded by old whispering trees that have witnessed countless gatherings such as this one, they have stood vigil over whoever comes to rest, grieve or silently sit and remember beneath their boughs. Today we have been brought to this hill because of one man, good ole Chuck, our father, our children’s Pop and your friend.
Craig told me once that you have to really listen closely to catch the lessons and pearls of wisdom Dad would offer you in conversation that he gleaned from his life. In this fast paced world it was hard to remember to slow down and really hear what he was saying sometimes. Dad was definitely not a fast-paced kind of man. The fastest thing about him was his love of the races!
Dad was a lifetime fisherman. Some of my fondest memories of my father are based around water, the beautiful lakes, ponds, rivers, and streams that we are so blessed to have here. I can’t look at the Shepaug River or Lake Waramaug and not feel connected to him and feel forever rooted to this land he loved…the soft leaf littered floor of the woods, the slick rocky riverbanks, appreciating and respecting New England’s nature.
For all the places my life has taken me, home is still home and will forever hold a special and nostalgic place in my heart because of my Dad.
The fly-fishing club breakfast is always a favorite memory of mine. Dad would pack us kids up early and head down to the river. It smelled like wet riverbank, crisp misty morning, dew covered grass and bacon. He was so proud to have us there running around getting dirty and enjoying something that was close to his heart alongside him.
So, Craig thought what better place for him to rest than in his childhood tacklebox that saw countless successful catches and, most likely, even more unsuccessful days on the water…as it is with fishing. It sat by his side quiet and ready to offer up a new lure, a new fly, a new chance at catching 'The Big One'. Its compartments held more than fishing implements. This rusty box held successes and failures, hours of silent ponderings by the river’s edge, excitement, achievements, and times shared with friends and family.
It is the perfect place to hold our father now. It’s traveled his life with him and sat quietly with him every time he cast his line. It is rusty and dusty, it’s steadfast and enduring, it’s constant, unchanging, and patient…it’s seen so much, it knows so much…just like Dad did.
Thank you all for loving and supporting Dad and for loving and supporting Craig and I.
"Find a stonewall, find a riverbank,
wander open fields and wooded places full of history and echoes of times past,
look for treasures… and think of Dad.”
In lieu of flowers, please consider donating to the Roxbury Land Trust, 6 Mine Hill Road, Roxbury, CT 06783 or the Roxbury Relief Fund, PO Box 203, Roxbury, Connecticut 06783.
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