Eric John Pelletier

Eric John Pelletier, an architect and builder whose life was defined by curiosity, persistence, and a deep belief in the potential of people and places, died peacefully in his home on November 12, 2025. He was 72. Though his health had declined in recent years, he remained engaged with life until the end, reluctant to leave a world that had given him so much to imagine, build, and love.

Born in 1953 in Queens, New York, Mr. Pelletier was the eldest of six children - the first boy among two brothers and three sisters. His childhood unfolded across much of Long Island, where he developed an early love for the outdoors, mechanical things, and problem-solving. A Boy Scout who hunted and fished with his father, John, he was also a tinkerer from an early age, forever taking apart and rebuilding cars, motorcycles, go-karts, and minibikes. Friends and siblings often hovered nearby, drawn to his easygoing nature and desire to always be doing something.

That combination - curiosity in how things work and human connection - would shape the rest of his life.

After high school, he studied at SUNY Farmingdale, initially considering a path as a machinist or surveyor. There he discovered architecture, a discipline that perfectly matched his love of building, engineering, and imagining what could be. He went on to earn his degree at Syracuse University, then one of the nation’s leading architecture programs, an achievement he took lifelong pride in and symbolized by a class ring he wore for decades.

He was not content to design from a distance. He believed deeply in understanding how things worked - from foundations to framing, from drawings to finished structures. His work went beyond drafting plans and carried all the way through the build. He worked closely with all the trades on a job site. He had a unique ability to stand for hours before a building - or even an empty lot - and see lives unfolding inside spaces that did not yet exist. His work included residential homes, churches, restaurants, and a variety of commercial projects in and around New York.

His work ethic was relentless. Obstacles were met with persistence; visions were pursued until realized (or as long as possible). People often say that you should find a job that feels like play, and this appeared to be true for him because he never stopped even after he became ill.

Equally defining was his desire to be generous. He could connect easily with people from all walks of life - wealthy clients and day laborers alike. He noticed what people needed and looked for ways to help. On one occasion, when a worker on a job site was at risk of losing his eyesight and lacked insurance, he ensured they received medical care and paid the bills himself, despite limited means. It was, in his mind, simply the right thing to do.

At home, his passions shaped family life. He and his then-wife loved skiing and spent years organizing weekend ski trips that brought friends together. He rode a Harley, shared late night rides with his sons, and once co-owned a gyrocopter - an adventure that only one of his boys were brave enough to participate in. His children grew up on construction sites, watching him work and learning how drawings come to life (while also laboring for free).

Though accomplished, his life was not a simple one. It was filled with unfinished projects, scattered papers, complicated relationships, and the occasional misadventure. He did not shy away from life’s messiness; he lived fully within it - literally and figuratively - sometimes inexplicably and uncomfortably so.

In his later years, travel brought him great joy, especially with his longtime partner, Debbie. Together they kayaked, fished, camped, and explored, even when his health made those pursuits challenging. He pushed himself anyway. He believed in going as far as he could, for as long as he could.

One of his happiest moments came shortly before his death, when his family gathered to celebrate his birthday. His grandson drew him a portrait, with his hat and all, and he responded by teaching him how to draw buildings and landscapes. He later described that moment surrounded by many of his grandchildren as the highlight of his life.

He is remembered as a builder, a problem-solver, a connector, and a man who saw potential everywhere. His voice, his persistence, and his way of imagining what might be will be deeply missed.

He is survived by his longtime girlfriend, children, grandchildren, siblings, mother, extended family, and the many friends, colleagues, and collaborators whose lives he touched.