David J. Gagne, 73, of Swanton, Vermont, passed away peacefully at his home on August 18, 2026, surrounded by his four loving children, following a courageous three-year battle with cancer.

Born February 14, 1953, in St. Albans, Vermont, David was the son of Aurele Gagne and the late Lucille (Watts) Pelkey.

How do you sum up 73 years of a man’s life in a few paragraphs?

The truth is, you can’t.

You can’t fit a lifetime of family, laughter, stories, hard work, fishing trips, hunting seasons, gardens, meals around the table, children growing up, grandchildren arriving, and great-grandchildren carrying the family forward into an obituary.

And you certainly can’t tell the story of David without mentioning his sense of humor.

David was hardworking, strong-willed, determined, and wonderfully stubborn. He loved to laugh, and even more, he loved making other people laugh. He could find humor when it was needed most, and those closest to him knew that being teased by David was often its own form of affection.

If he gave you a hard time, he probably liked you.

If he gave you a really hard time, there was a pretty good chance he loved you.

Behind all that humor was a man who loved his family deeply.

David was the proud father of four children, a grandfather, a great-grandfather, a son, a brother, an uncle, and a friend. One of the greatest gifts of his life was watching his family grow through the years. He was fortunate enough to be part of five living generations—an extraordinary blessing his family will treasure forever.

As the years passed, children became adults, grandchildren arrived, and then came the great-grandchildren. Another great-grandchild is still on the way. Through all of those changing seasons, David remained a constant: Dad, Grandpa, Great-Grandpa, brother, friend, and, with great affection, “the old man.”

David worked in several different fields throughout his life, but there was one job that became much more than a paycheck to him.

For more than 20 years, David was a school bus driver—and he absolutely loved it.

More importantly, David loved his bus kids, and his bus kids loved him right back.

They weren’t simply passengers sitting behind him while he drove a route. They were his kids.

David learned their names and their personalities. He listened to their stories, joked with them, watched them grow, and became a familiar and trusted part of their lives. He looked forward to seeing them, and they looked forward to seeing him.

Over more than two decades, countless children climbed the steps of David’s bus. Some rode with him for a year, while others spent years growing up behind him. He watched little kids become big kids and, in some cases, watched families and generations pass through his bus.

David understood something important: getting children safely to and from school was his responsibility, but caring about them was something he chose to do.

And he did.

There are adults today who will remember Mr. Gagne not because of one extraordinary day, but because he was there on hundreds of ordinary ones—a familiar face in the morning, a joke after a long school day, and someone who noticed them.

Those kids mattered to David.

And knowing how much they loved him, it’s safe to say he mattered to them, too.

When David wasn’t behind the wheel, some of his happiest moments were spent outdoors.

He loved hunting and fishing, and there were few places he would rather be than sitting in a deer stand.

To someone else, spending hours sitting quietly in the woods waiting for a deer might have seemed like an incredible test of patience.

To David, it was a pretty good day.

He loved the quiet of the woods, the anticipation of hunting season, and the simple pleasure of having a fishing pole in his hands. Whether the deer showed up or the fish decided to bite wasn’t always the most important part.

He just loved being there.

He loved working in his garden, cooking, being outdoors, and spending time with family and friends. David understood that life didn’t have to be elaborate to be good. Sometimes happiness was a deer stand on a cold morning, a fishing pole in your hand, something growing in the garden, a meal being cooked, or a table surrounded by people you loved.

Those are the places his family will continue to find pieces of him—in the stillness of the woods, in a deer stand before the rest of the world has awakened, beside the water with a fishing line cast out, and in the stories that will inevitably begin with, “Remember when Dad…”

David was also a proud Third Degree Freemason for many years. He deeply valued the brotherhood, friendships, fellowship, and sense of community he found through the Masons.

More than anything he accomplished or any title he ever held, David’s greatest legacy is the family that carries him forward.

He is survived by his father, Aurele Gagne, and his loving stepmother, Diane Gagne, who loved and embraced David as her own son; and his four children:

Michelle Duprey and her husband, Jeff, and their daughters, Mariah and fiancé Mike, Kimberly and fiancé Branden, and Kaitlin and fiancé Ryan; Karen Gagne, and her sons, Ian and fiancé Shannon, and Tyler and his wife, Juliet;

Emmanuel Gagne, who is still waiting to meet his future ex-wife—a detail David’s sense of humor would undoubtedly insist remain part of his official life story; and Rachel Gagne, and her children, Zoe, Ivy, and Kane.

David was also blessed with his great-grandchildren, Wesley, Sabrina, Dawson, Ella, Ruby, Carter, and Evelyn, with another great-grandchild already on the way.

He is further survived by his brothers, Paul Gagne and his wife, Kathy; Michael Gagne and his wife, Jesica; Lionel Gagne and his wife, Janice; Phillip Gagne and his wife, Celeste; and Pierre Gagne, as well as many nieces, nephews, extended family members, friends, neighbors, and the many people whose lives crossed paths with his over 73 years.

In addition to his mother, Lucille Pelkey, David was predeceased by his brothers, Roger Gagne and Meredith Allen Gagne.

The final three years of David’s life were not easy.

Cancer asked more of David and his family than anyone should have to give. There were appointments, treatments, difficult days, hopeful days, setbacks, and moments when simply putting one foot in front of the other required tremendous strength.

But David kept going.

He fought.

He joked.

He loved his family.

And, as his daughter so perfectly put it, he gave it his all.

When that long, hard road finally came to an end, David was exactly where he belonged—at home, surrounded by his four children.

There is something beautifully fitting about that.

The man who spent a lifetime building and loving his family left this world surrounded by it.

David’s family extends its deepest gratitude to the care teams at The University of Vermont Medical Center, Northwestern Medical Center, and BAYADA Hospice for the compassion, dignity, and care they provided throughout his journey.

The family is equally grateful to the many relatives, friends, neighbors, and loved ones who called, visited, brought comfort, helped when help was needed, sat beside him, made him laugh, and simply showed up.

Every kindness mattered.

In accordance with David’s wishes, services will be private and held at the convenience of the family.

There will be an empty place in this family now that no one else can fill.

There will be family dinners when someone looks toward the place where David should be sitting.

There will be hunting seasons when someone climbs into a deer stand and thinks of him.

There will be days on the water when someone casts a line and wishes he were there.

There will be gardens planted, meals cooked, school buses passing by, birthdays celebrated, babies born, and ordinary days when one of his children suddenly thinks, I need to call Dad. And then remembers.

Those may be some of the hardest moments.

His family will miss his voice.

They will miss his laugh.

They will miss his stories, his stubbornness, his jokes, and probably even the advice they didn’t ask for.

They will miss the things about him that drove them crazy and that they would now give anything to experience one more time.

But if David had any say in the matter, his family wouldn’t spend the rest of their lives sitting around being sad.

In fact, he already left them instructions.

And, in true David fashion, he didn’t dress them up with fancy words:

“Get off your ass and live life.”

It’s funny.

It’s blunt.

It’s completely David.

And maybe, underneath the humor, it’s one of the greatest gifts he could have left behind.

Don’t wait for someday.

Go fishing.

Sit in the deer stand.

Plant the garden.

Cook the meal.

Gather around the table.

Take the picture—even if somebody complains about having their picture taken.

Tell the story you’ve already told a hundred times.

Laugh until your stomach hurts.

Say “I love you.”

Spend time with your people.

And don’t waste the life you’ve been given waiting for the perfect time to live it.

Because David’s 73 years were both an entire lifetime and, to the people who loved him, nowhere near long enough.

He leaves behind five generations, countless memories, an awful lot of laughter, and probably more than a few stories that aren’t appropriate for publication.

His family will tell those anyway.

That is how David will remain with them.

In the stories.

In the laughter.

In the woods.

On the water.

In every child who remembers the bus driver who cared about them.

And in the generations of his family who will continue to gather, love one another, tell his stories, laugh at his jokes, and live the life he told them to live.

David was deeply loved.

He will be terribly missed.

And he will never, ever be forgotten.

The family invites those who knew and loved David to share their memories and condolences by visiting www.awrfh.com.

Rest easy, David. You gave it your all.

We’ll take it from here.