(From Clark Funeral Home)
JUNE 9, 1951 — JULY 8, 2026
Some people leave behind memories. John Goodfellow left behind stories, laughter, life lessons, and a whole lot of people who are better because they knew him.
John passed away surrounded by the love of his family, leaving a hole that can never truly be filled. While our hearts are broken, we’re grateful to know his pain is over and take comfort in believing we’ll see him again.
John was the kind of father every son deserves and the kind of grandfather every child dreams of having. His greatest joy wasn’t found in things—it was found in his family. He leaves behind his son, Chris Goodfellow, and daughter-in-law, Kelly; his beloved seven grandchildren, who were the light of his life; and his sister, Susan Richards, and her husband, Steve.
His family wasn’t limited to those who shared his last name. Over the years, his home became a second home to a gang of ragtag teenage boys who somehow never stopped coming around. Those boys grew into good men, husbands, fathers, and friends, and even after they all grew taller than John, they never outgrew the respect and love they had for him. He never set out to be a role model—he simply was one.
John believed in hard work. Even in his later years, he’d work circles around people half his age. He built countless houses with his hands, took pride in every job he did, and after retirement turned his full attention to spoiling his grandkids like it was his full-time profession.
When he wasn’t with family, you could usually find him fishing, mowing his yard to perfection, or telling stories from his younger days. He loved Willie Nelson, proudly claimed to have smoked a joint with Kris Kristofferson, and could tell you all about seeing Iron Butterfly in concert as though it had happened the week before. Whether every detail got a little better with age hardly mattered—John could tell a story like no one else, and his booming laugh usually had everyone laughing right along with him.
He lived honestly, loved deeply, worked tirelessly, and laughed loudly. That’s a life well lived.
We like to imagine John in heaven now, fishing in waters where they always bite, telling stories that somehow keep getting better, listening to Willie Nelson, and raising a Harvey Wallbanger with old friends and loved ones who got there first.
His hands built homes, but his heart built something even more lasting—a family that adored him, friendships that stood the test of time, and a legacy of hard work, kindness, humor, and unconditional love.
We’ll miss him every day, but we’ll carry him with us in every fishing trip, every perfectly mowed yard, every loud laugh, and every story worth telling.
Until we meet again, we love you, John
A private family service will be held.
Some people leave behind memories. John Goodfellow left behind stories, laughter, life lessons, and a whole lot of people who are better because they knew him.
John passed away surrounded by the love of his family, leaving a hole that can never truly be filled. While our hearts are broken, we’re grateful to know his pain is over and take comfort in believing we’ll see him again.
John was the kind of father every son deserves and the kind of grandfather every child dreams of having. His greatest joy wasn’t found in things—it was found in his family. He leaves behind his son, Chris Goodfellow, and daughter-in-law, Kelly; his beloved seven grandchildren, who were the light of his life; and his sister, Susan Richards, and her husband, Steve.
His family wasn’t limited to those who shared his last name. Over the years, his home became a second home to a gang of ragtag teenage boys who somehow never stopped coming around. Those boys grew into good men, husbands, fathers, and friends, and even after they all grew taller than John, they never outgrew the respect and love they had for him. He never set out to be a role model—he simply was one.
John believed in hard work. Even in his later years, he’d work circles around people half his age. He built countless houses with his hands, took pride in every job he did, and after retirement turned his full attention to spoiling his grandkids like it was his full-time profession.
When he wasn’t with family, you could usually find him fishing, mowing his yard to perfection, or telling stories from his younger days. He loved Willie Nelson, proudly claimed to have smoked a joint with Kris Kristofferson, and could tell you all about seeing Iron Butterfly in concert as though it had happened the week before. Whether every detail got a little better with age hardly mattered—John could tell a story like no one else, and his booming laugh usually had everyone laughing right along with him.
He lived honestly, loved deeply, worked tirelessly, and laughed loudly. That’s a life well lived.
We like to imagine John in heaven now, fishing in waters where they always bite, telling stories that somehow keep getting better, listening to Willie Nelson, and raising a Harvey Wallbanger with old friends and loved ones who got there first.
His hands built homes, but his heart built something even more lasting—a family that adored him, friendships that stood the test of time, and a legacy of hard work, kindness, humor, and unconditional love.
We’ll miss him every day, but we’ll carry him with us in every fishing trip, every perfectly mowed yard, every loud laugh, and every story worth telling.
Until we meet again, we love you, John
A private family service will be held.
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