Frank Gaspar, 84, born "Francis Manuel Gaspar" passed away peacefully on March 17, 2023, at his home in Sun City Center, Florida. Frank was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on March 9, 1939, to Muriel Blackburn Gaspar and Manuel E. Gaspar.
Frank was known as "Fink" and the "Great One" to friends and family. He was a champion boxer in the Silver Mittens and Golden Gloves in Lowell, Massachusetts, in the 1950s, raised his family in Billerica, Massachusetts, until moving to Florida in 1981, and worked as a carpenter and general contractor in New England and Florida. He was hailed for yelling out "Yes," "Bang," and the names of friends and family as loud as he could in the most inappropriate places. Frank is preceded in death by his wife of 45 years, Irma E. Gaspar; son, Frank Gaspar, Jr. and his brothers, Robert, Earl, Donald, and Kenneth ("Sonny"). He is survived by his siblings, Dorothy, Raymond, and Jacqueline; son Dr. Richard Francis Gaspar; daughter Kristen Jean Almand; former daughters-in-law Judith M. Gaspar and Tammy Gaspar; son-in-law Ryan Almand; grandchildren Clint Gaspar, Taylor, Trevor, and Troy Almand, Sarah Bunch, Emele, Natalee, and Manny Gaspar; great-grandchildren Cecily Gaspar and Clark Doyle; and girlfriend and constant companion for the last 11 years, Nancy Houle. Frank loved the Patriots, Buccaneers, building, travel, and laughter, but most of all, he loved family. For the past twenty-plus years, he enjoyed retirement and built playgrounds, forts, and playsets with his family and a lifetime of memories for loved ones.
Frank hated funerals, and he had to be dragged to every last one...so he did not want one...there will be a "Celebration of Life" at the Andalucia Clubhouse located at 6140 Marbella Boulevard on April 8, 2023, from 5:30 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. Please keep his spirit alive by calling one of your loved ones with a simple & "I love you."

His son, Richard wrote the following poem upon his passing:
My Right Hand
(March 9, 1939-March 17, 2023)
Someone has cut off my right hand,
and left a limb to bleed.
A cut so quick and so deep,
it took a moment to see.
Gone is the hand that held you tight;
the strongest part of me.
It can no longer wave goodbye.
There are no fingers to wipe the tears.
Love and kindness may ease the pain,
in the coming years.
Only time can heal this loss
and help me to feel,
the severed limb of my right hand
made of flesh and not of steel.