A Farewell to Mr. Peter Taylor: A Life Well Lived

Today, February 6, 2025, I joined family and friends to bid farewell to a dear friend, Mr. Francis Peter Taylor: affectionately known to me and many as Mr. Pete. At 90 years old, he departed this world, leaving behind cherished memories and the lessons he so freely shared.  

I often think of life as a movie, where characters come and go at different stages. Some make brief appearances, while others play recurring roles. But through it all, the main character remains until the very end. It doesn’t matter when or how someone enters your story, what matters is the purpose they serve while they’re there.  

I met Mr. Pete at St. Aloysius Parish in New Canaan one evening after daily Mass. I was drawn to the parish because of its 5:30 PM service and the beauty of the church. Whenever I had a day off, I would drive there from Norwalk for Mass, finding solace in its sacred space.  

One evening, after Mass, I encountered Mr. Pete. He was funny and quick-witted, introducing himself with a warm energy that was instantly inviting. When he learned I was from Ghana, he was intrigued, asking endless questions with genuine curiosity. From that moment on, we became friends. I told him about my grandma who was ill at the time. He also told me about his family and his lovely wife he had lost a few years back.

In no time, I discovered that Mr. Pete had a deep passion for finance and the capital markets and even had a professional background in it, a passion we both shared. He would send me emails of daily trade updates and earnings reports as soon as they were released for his major holdings. I remember playfully calling him "KLAC" after a stock he loved. Those moments, those conversations. I miss them all. 

One of the gifts of befriending an 88-year-old man was the wealth of unfiltered wisdom he shared. He had lived long enough to speak the truth without pretense, and I valued every lesson he taught me. I remember one evening after dinner when I instinctively reached for my wallet to pay. He stopped me. “No,” he said firmly.  

As we left the restaurant, he turned to me and said, “In life, when someone promises to do something for you, let them do it.” Then he added, “Save your money. If you’re not there yet, don’t show it.” 

That advice stayed with me. Having grown up without a father, I always treasured the guidance of those who cared enough to offer it. Mr. Pete was one of those rare souls who gave wisdom freely, with no expectation in return.  

Life took us in different directions. I had to leave my home in Connecticut for work, and he, too, wanted to moved closer to his son. Before we parted, in our conversation, he asked me a question, “If I die, will you come to my funeral?”  

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”  

Though I wasn’t able to attend his wake yesterday, the 5th, I made sure to be there for his funeral Mass at St. Patrick’s in Armonk, New York, and his burial in Valhalla despite the inclement weather. The music at Mass was superb. He had a great taste for life and surely would have loved how the mass and everything went. I’m so grateful to his son, John Taylor, for keeping me informed every step of the way.  

Mr. Pete always had a smile on his face, and as the priest said in his homily, he never took life too seriously. If you knew him, you would know that the priest nailed it. And that was one of the most important things or lessons I learned from him, to embrace life with humor, grace, and lightness.  

Rest in peace, my dear friend. You were a gift to this world, and I will always cherish the moments, whether it was in New Canaan, Norwalk or Stamford that we shared.  

Ronnie Law