Birth date: Jun 6, 1950 Death date: Mar 24, 2026
Gerry Wayne Curry, 75, of Boonville, MO, passed away on Tuesday, March 24, 2026, at the University of Missouri Hospital. Funeral services will be held on Saturday, March 28, 2026, at the First Baptist Church at First Baptist Churc Read Obituary
R.I.P gerry curry you will be very much miss ill miss you very much im glad the lord has received a wonderful angel name gerry!
Gerry, at 70, still out there helping me build my barn.
Didn’t even give me a choice—he just showed up ready to work.
About gave me a heart attack climbing up that ladder like it was nothing.
He’d do the same thing at the house… I’d suddenly hear a lawn mower going and just know—Gerry was here. Never asked, never expected anything in return. He just genuinely loved helping people.
That’s who he was.
He was greatly loved, and he’s going to be deeply missed. 😢
My fondest memory of my grandpa was when I came out to visit him in 2017 and he had me shoot his BB gun in his basement. I got a bullseye on my first shot and Pa was so proud. We spent the rest of the week hanging out just the two of us. We got sonic, went to walmart, ate cookies out of his cookie jar, and he taught me how to drive his ride-on lawnmower that he loved oh so much. He also came and let me help him build the wall in my room when I first moved to Missouri. What an honor it was to have such an amazing grandpa and i will miss him until the day I get to see him again.
Eulogy of Gerry Wayne Curry
aka “Pa”
One of the things I always got a kick out of… was how Pa could come across “a little” grumpy.
For years, I spent more time with him than anybody. And once in a while, one of my siblings would call me and ask,
“Why is he always so grumpy?”
And I’d just laugh and tell them,
“He’s not grumpy… that’s him in a good mood.”
And the truth is… I still don’t feel like I have the right words, and maybe that’s fitting.
Seems like I’ve always got something to say but the past few days it has been challenging.
Because if you knew Gerry, you know he wasn’t big on a lot of words anyway. Maybe a little grump from time to time.
He was just more of a “just get it done” kind of guy.
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Gerry came into my life when I was 11 years old, and over the years, he became my wingman, my ride or die, for 39 years. Not just a stepdad, but a steady presence, a teacher… and eventually just “Pa.”
And I’ll say this… in our house(s) (and there were a lot of them when Mom was alive) there weren’t any “steps.” He wasn’t a “Step”dad, he was more of a dad than he ever had to be. The only steps were the ones on the porch.
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That name “Pa” came from something simple that I’m not sure anyone even knows about. We used to sit around watching those old Ma and Pa Kettle reruns late at night (That was a TV show from the 50’s, check it out), and I started calling him “Pa” as a joke… But it stuck. And honestly… it fit perfectly.
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I had the chance to work with him at a few different places over the years, and especially when I had my construction company, he was right there with me. Now, I’m not saying he had a choice… but I’m also not saying he didn’t. And when we worked together, he was always in maintenance… and I was always in production. Which basically means, I broke stuff, and he had to fix it.
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But if you really want to know who Pa was, you didn’t have to ask, you just had to watch him work. He didn’t stand around scratching his head too long… well, maybe a little, but then he’d figure it out.
And that’s probably the biggest thing he taught me: If you don’t know how to do something, GOOD!
Now’s your chance to learn. He didn’t wait until he had all the answers. He just got after it. And somehow, between trial, error, and a little stubbornness, it always came together.
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He loved old cars, old trucks, and he taught me more than I ever wanted to know about how to work on them. For example; The worst punishment from him was getting caught with cigarettes at school was I had to change the brakes on his old dump truck. Those things weighed more than I did.
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I’ll be honest, and some of you know this about me… I’ve always had a tendency to come up with some pretty crazy ideas.
“Let’s gut this house and start over”…
(which, to be fair, he taught me that one.)
“Let’s add a second story to the house.” Or “Let’s put an engine in that truck this weekend.”
And he was always there. Most of the time shaking his head… but he was there. (I think part of him showed up just to see if I could actually pull it off.)
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I learned how to work hard from him.
I learned how to laugh from him.
And I learned how to show up for the people you love, even if that meant showing up to a job site you didn’t necessarily sign up for.
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Now, most people thought Pa was just a westerns guy. And yeah… he liked his westerns.
But what people didn’t always see was that he also loved Star Trek, MASH, and those newer reality shows, especially The Curse of Oak Island.
He stuck with that show for years… always wondering if they were ever actually going to find that treasure. And I guess now… he finally knows.
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Pa wasn’t a guy who walked around quoting Scripture… but if you look at his life, he lived it.
Proverbs 22:6 says “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.”
That was him.
He didn’t just say it, he lived it.
He taught by example.
By showing up.
By working hard.
By loving his family in a steady, consistent way.
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And it wasn’t until I became a dad that I really understood something.
A father is the only man in your life who truly wants you to be better than he ever was, no jealousy, no competition… he just wants you to win.
That’s what a father does.
He doesn’t hold you back, he lifts you higher than himself.
And that’s exactly who Pa was to me.
He wasn’t flashy. He wasn’t complicated.
He was just real.
And he loved his people in the most “Pa” way possible, by being there, by helping out, and by sticking with you through whatever needed done.
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I’m grateful for every moment we had.
Every lesson, whether I asked for it or not.
Every late night, every job, every laugh.
And if I can carry anything forward from him, it’s this:
Don’t be afraid to jump in, get your hands dirty, and figure it out as you go.
And maybe keep a little humor in it along the way, because Pa always did.
And I’ll leave you with this…
I hope he was as proud to call me his son…
as I was to have him as my dad.
Love you forever Pa!
