Daniel Gerard Armstrong

Daniel Gerard Armstrong, affectionately known as Danny and later simply Dan, passed away on September 15, 2026, surrounded by his family. He was 66 years old.

Dan was born September 21, 1959, at the U.S. Naval Base in Norfolk, Virginia, the fourth of five children. The family later returned home to Rockland, Massachusetts, where his mother Bernadette devoted herself to raising her five children and somehow kept the whole crew going on her own. Dan’s maternal grandparents, Sam and Lillian—lovingly known to all subsequent generations as Ma and Pa—held a particularly special place in his childhood and throughout his life.

Dan attended South Shore Vocational Technical High School in Hanover, Massachusetts, where he became an exceptionally skilled carpenter. He never met a piece of wood he didn’t love—a fact obvious to anyone who has seen his high school senior photo—and his talent for working with his hands stayed with him throughout his life. He passed that love on to his daughter Nicki, teaching her to use power tools fearlessly and inspiring in her the same love of building, fixing, and always having another project underway.

Dan and Terry met in 1988 and married in 1991, beginning what would become nearly four decades of life together. The Armstrongs moved from Massachusetts to Texas in 1992 when Terry’s career brought them south, and their son Daniel Jr. was born the following year. Through the years, Dan and Terry loved playing cribbage together and enjoyed their trips to the casinos in Shreveport and Connecticut.

Dan’s love of working with his hands extended well beyond wood. He loved muscle cars, and as a young man could often be found with his friends pulling engines and working on cars. Years later, he passed that knowledge along to Danny, teaching his son how to work on cars, too. Since Dan strongly preferred older cars, working together on anything newer generally taught Danny some other things as well—mostly new and creative ways to cuss.

Dan eventually traded his carpentry tools for the open road, becoming a truck driver in the early 2000s. He remained behind the wheel until his retirement in 2023.

He had the kindest, most beautiful blue eyes and was known for being wonderfully laid-back. He possessed the kind of infectious laugh that made everyone around him laugh, too! He loved adventuring with his kiddos and spending time with his grandkiddos, and could be reliably counted on for a late-afternoon nap, a Bud Light (or two), and his daily Wordle.

Dan loved an adventure, especially when his kids were along for it. Many Father’s Days were often spent betting on the ponies, a tradition that became even more fun in recent years when the older grandkids were old enough to join in on the racing fun. Other Father’s Days brought new shenanigans: a behind-the-scenes zoo experience with up close and personal wild animal encounters - where he finally got to feed the elephants he had loved and collected since childhood, and an aerial adventure park where he zip-lined, tackled the ropes course, and—much to his kids’ dismay—out-climbed them all!

Classic rock was the soundtrack to much of Dan’s life, with the Eagles holding a special place among his favorites. His family took him to Las Vegas to finally see them on their “final” tour—and then saw them again locally two years later, apparently still on their "final" tour. Riding with Dan was not for the weak of heart—or the easily carsick—as he had a habit of tapping the accelerator pedal to the beat of whatever Eagles song was playing. And when the Eagles weren’t playing, there was a pretty good chance NPR was. Through good seasons and bad, he was a forever fan of the New England Patriots.

Dan was also a talented chess player. He taught his daughter Ryann to play when she was very young, and after many years away from the game, the two had recently started playing together again—a special connection that had come full circle.

And then there was the lottery. Dan remained fairly certain that his big win was just one drawing away and faithfully played every week. His family plans to keep playing his numbers in his honor—because surely he wouldn’t want them to miss the week they finally hit.

He answered to a lot of names over his lifetime (some nicer than others - ha!), but none meant more to him than "Daddy" and "Papa". He adored his children and his grandchildren Kathryn, Colin, AJ, Lexi, and Ian, and was so looking forward to finally holding his first great-grandson, Bear.

Dan is survived by his wife, Terry; his children, Nicki Sanders and her husband Aaron, Ryann Black and her husband Selden, and Daniel Jr.; his grandchildren, Kathryn and her husband Colton, Colin, AJ, Lexi, and Ian; and his great-grandson, Bear.

He is also survived by his sister Philomena; his brother Paul and his wife, Kim; his baby sister Marilyn Viverito and her husband Tony; his sisters-in-law Peggy and her husband Larry, and Marci and her husband Tim; his brother-in-law Michael and his wife Donna; his aunt Ronnie; Uncle Jay; and many cousins, nieces, nephews, great-nieces, and great-nephews.

He was preceded in death by his mother Bernadette (White) Armstrong; his beloved grandparents Sam and Lillian (Ma and Pa); his brother Charles E. Armstrong III; his brother-in-law Marty Tucker; and his aunts Peggy, Claire, Pat, and Evie.

Although Dan had faced several health challenges over the last several months, his death was sudden and unexpected. He passed away surrounded by the people he loved.

He drove Terry crazy with—well, pretty much everything. One MIGHT say this was his intention. He made his family laugh, and he loved them deeply. A lifelong fan of Monty Python, Dan never took himself—or life—too seriously. In his own wonderfully laid-back way, he taught his family to do the same.

Through all of the ordinary things that make up a life—sharing adventures with his kids, time with his grandkids, cribbage games with Terry, projects and chess games, working on cars, days at the races, casino trips, Patriots games, Eagles songs tapped out on the accelerator, elephants collected over a lifetime, afternoon naps, Bud Lights, Wordles, lottery tickets, and always that unmistakable laugh—he made himself completely irreplaceable.

Dan will be unbelievably missed, more than he could ever have known. His family plans to honor his legacy the way he would have wanted: by not taking life too seriously, enjoying every possible minute, and laughing as often and as loud as they can with the people they love.

A celebration of Dan’s life will be held in January - details to be announced.

If you’d like to do something in Dan’s memory, make a memory with someone you love instead of buying flowers. Have a Bud Light, buy a lottery ticket, go have some fun, and laugh as much as possible. Dan would have liked that much better.