Maurice J. Murphy passed away peacefully on December 12, 2025 in Milton, MA surrounded by the love of his family.  He was 88 years old.

Born on November 8, 1937 in New Ross, County Wexford, Ireland to Edward and Anastasia (Kent) Murphy. Maurice (affectionately known as Mossy) was a beloved father, husband, grandfather, brother, uncle and friend. He was known for his quick wit, kind heart, and willingness to help those he loved. His deep, hearty laugh would catch one’s ear, but it was his smile, twinkling up into his eyes, that enveloped all around him in warmth and joy.

As a young boy, growing up in the town of New Ross beside the river Barrow on the border of Wexford and Waterford, Mossy, his brothers, and his life-long friends Pat and John O’Brien spent long hours in school, dawdled walking home for lunch, played hoops in the streets and hurling and football in the park, and generally got into mischief when they could. As much as Mossy loved New Ross, his heart always longed to be in the country. He spent his summers with his uncle, Canon Murphy, in the parish of Claughbawn in Enniscorthy. He helped Nellie Murphy, the rectory housekeeper and a second-mother to him, care for the small gardens, honey hives, and animals at the small farm each summer. If not in the country, Mossy loved to be at the beach. His maternal aunt, Nanny Foley and her family, resided in Fethard-on-Sea in Wexford. The family would rent a pony-and-trap, trekking the day it took to travel the 20 or so miles. His mother, Anastasia, would pack baskets of food for the journey, and the boys would take turns driving the cart. Mossy’s most vivid family memories were of summer vacations in Duncannon, on the wide Waterford beaches. Here, the boys would ride (and race) donkeys up and down the beach. When the spare change in the pocket was gone for the day, Mossy went to work to earn money for more rides and for a small cone from the seaside ice cream parlour. The lad minding the donkeys was happy to hand the reins to Mossy and his brothers, who toured around other children until they had earned enough money for more fun. These days taught Mossy about the value of hard work, and the joy in working hard, lessons that supported him throughout his life.

As in any life there is tragedy along with joy. Mossy lost his father, Edward (Ned), in October 1954 when he was only 16 years old. The Murphy family were an old Ross family, and he was buried with them in Ballyanne. Shortly thereafter, Mossy graduated secondary school with high marks on his leaving cert. His uncle arranged an apprenticeship for him with an electrician in Enniscorthy. He left home, and boarded with a local woman in the town. It was a hard time for him, and in short order he worked hard, saved his money, and bought a bike, which, like any good Irish son, he used to ride home and visit his mother.

Apprenticeships were difficult in those days, and the rural electrification of Ireland fueled the need for long hours and grueling work. However, these days were some of my father’s fondest as an electrician. He spoke of traveling to farms far out in the country, and the kindness of the families. He spoke of the generosity of the farmer’s wives who would feed them at lunchtime, a hot dinner of boiled fresh potatoes and cabbage slathered in butter with a steaming cup of tea. Some days in the fall, there might even be a slice of apple pie, a special treat, if the lady of the house was especially kind. The farmers, however, were not always as considerate. They were suspicious of the electrification of their homes and barns, fearful of fire and cost. One day, Mossy had to wire a small barn housing pigs. The stye took up nearly the entire barn and there was no recourse but to wade through the eighteen inches of muck. Standing on the ladder in the middle of the stye while wrestling with a ceiling light, he heard the barn door creak. Turning to look, it crashed open and a fat sow plowed through the door and into his ladder. The only good thing that could be said was that the muck was thick and did cushion his fall. The farmer had the decency never to break a smile but neither did he express any regret. His wife, of course, was all apologies, giving him a bucket of cold water, a towel and a full pie wrapped in paper to take home.

During his apprenticeship, Mossy was trained by Gus Byrnes. Gus and his wife Elizabeth welcomed Mossy into their home and family. Theirs was the first family that took Mossy (and later the rest of us) into their hearts and adopted him as their own. Mossy stayed in touch with Gus and Elizabeth all his life, deeply valuing their friendship and his mentorship. During this time, Mossy enjoyed having a bit of money and a bit of freedom, cycling to dances on the weekend, supporting Wexford at local hurling matches and on the rare occasion traveling to Dublin for a game and a bit of craic. While my father was quite content with this happy-go-luck life path, his uncle had higher aspirations for him. The Canon had a dear friend, John Walsh, also from Wexford who lived in Boston. As it was in those days, a young man from Wexford could be sponsored by another already in America. And so, in 1960, Mossy emigrated to Boston. Lily and John Walsh generously took him into their home, their hearts and their family, his life-long, adopted family.

Through the Walshes, Mossy found a welcoming Irish community, making life-long friends who would see each other through its ups and downs, joys and sorrows. He and Jimmy Walsh, John and Lily’s son, made a pact and became blood brothers. Through Erin’s Hope Irish Football Club, he met Paddy Clarke, his best man and his best friend. There he met others who became life-long friends as well - Pat Fitgerald, Maurice Sugrue, and JP O’Brien - with whom he bonded over football, dances at the State Ballroom in Boston, and a shared longing to go home to Ireland. Although Mossy went home to Ireland many times, he also made a home here in America, working, marrying, raising a family, retiring, golfing and relishing his grandchildren.

On September 25, 1965, Mossy married the person he most cherished and loved throughout his life, Evelyn Ryan of Murvey, Roundstone, County Galway. He rowed the boat while she navigated the tiller. Moving in concert and moving in trust, Mossy faced the immediate task at hand, working to secure and support the family, while Evelyn guided them, seeking the immigrant’s dream of a better life. Evelyn’s fierce determination girded her pursuit of these lofty aspirations, while Mossy’s unwavering belief in her, helped fuel their achievement. Together, they moved efficiently, Mossy was a methodical man. Life did not always allow them to move directly and occasionally caught them in its currents and tossed them about. Mossy lost his mother in March 1978 and Evelyn lost her mother unexpectedly in September 1980 and her father in January 1983. But together they persisted, righting their course or adapting to what lay before them. Together, they raised three children all of whom they educated and made sure graduated from college. Together, they built Evelyn’s dream, ringing in the millennium in their new home in Murvey. Together, they reveled in their precious grandchildren, who were theirs simply to love and delight in. Together, they lived a big, bold, and bountiful life, buoyed by love, family, friends, and laughter.

Mossy and Evelyn started their life together in a small first-floor apartment of a two-story house on Kirkland Street in Lynn. The little house stood across the street from a tanning factory, which was belching out its last few years before manufacturing left the state and the country. Their daughter Mary was born in April of 1967, and their son Michael followed in June of 1968. Quickly outgrowing the house, and the patience of the elderly owners, who lived below on the first floor, Mossy and Evelyn bought their first house. They moved into a small white colonial on Sutcliffe Road in Lynn and found a wonderful neighborhood and many friends. The Bacons at the top of the street, and the Fords behind the house had children of the same age, and had lovely parents, who welcomed Mossy and Evelyn. The Bardeau’s, who lived to the left, stepped in as surrogate grandparents, spoiling Mary and Michael, and the Agganis’s, who lived to the right, spoiled Mossy and Evelyn with greek coffee and a shot of whiskey. However, they both still longed to return home to Ireland, and planned to do so in 1972.

The ebbs and flows of life pushed in a different direction however, and they found themselves in May of 1972 moving into their forever home on Rockwell Place in Milton. The house sat at the end of a small dead-end street just down a few houses from John and Lily Walsh. Although it was in great disrepair, handy friends took up the task with Mossy and generously helped it take shape, in time for the arrival of their daughter Anne in January 1973.

A few years thereafter, Mossy joined Sullivan & McLaughlin Electrical Contractors and began his life-long journey as a union man. Mossy, fervently loyal to those he loved and trusted, spent the majority of his career with Joy Electric where he made many life long friends. He trained many apprentices, and Mo, as he was known on the job, had high standards and high expectations. He trained many highly skilled and talented electricians, and helped a few find alternative paths. He was a loyal and ardent member of the IBEW Local 103 and proudly worked for 27 years before he retired in 1999 at the age of 62.

During retirement Mossy found himself. With the immediate obligations and burden of raising a family lifted, he discovered he had a lot of free time on his hands and discovered he didn’t like it. A little bit of discomfort can be the very thing to spur one on to try new things, as Mossy did. He discovered he liked golf, and not only did he like it, he was good at it. With all those years of playing hurling, he could drive the ball a straight 300 yards off the tee within the first few months of learning to play. Mossy astounded us all, especially my brother, an avid golfer, who found a shared passion with Dad. Through golf, he connected with friends from the Local 103, playing with them three times a week for nearly 20 years, and in doing so wove himself into a circle of friendship that became the heart of his retired life.

In addition to golf, Mossy also loved the sea. Our best memories as a family are of those spent on the shores of Nantasket Beach in Hull with the Flaherty’s, with whom we grew up as family. In retirement, Mossy rediscovered sailing. His father was passionate about sailing and happiest on the water. He spent his best days heeling his large sailboat with its broad lead keel up and down the Barrow and out into the Irish Sea, many times joined by his sons. Lead was scarce in those days during WWII, and one morning his father’s boat listed on its side, its keel stolen in the night. Mossy didn’t sail again for many years. So when their dear and life-long friends, Ronnie and Brenda Lyman, invited them to cruise the Caribbean on a sailboat captained by Ronnie himself, Mossy jumped on board. Well, Evelyn, always the adventurer but not much of a swimmer, jumped on board. Mossy reluctantly agreed to go, mostly to ensure she didn’t drown. But, after the first trip, Mossy was the very one asking to organize the next. The crew relived their youthful days, except with more money in their pockets to play. They explored many bars and beaches on numerous isles across the Caribbean Sea over the years.

However, Mossy could most often be found in one of two places - in the yard tending his verdant lawn and vegetable garden or watching a GAA game. Mossy met some of his closest friends playing football for Erin’s Hope when he first came to Boston, and sustained those friendships through a shared love of Irish football and hurling. He spent many a fun afternoon volunteering his time and skills as an electrician when the Irish Cultural Center in Canton was being built. There, he spent many afternoons with Paddy Clarke, watching the major and minor games in the very park they helped build. As they got older, Mossy and Paddy spent nearly every Sunday morning dissecting and lamenting the performance of Wexford or Meath over a cup of tea. They grudgingly admitted there may be some value to the internet once they could watch the games live from Ireland on TV. Those times brought him great enjoyment, and if there was a good match on a hot summer day, he’d happily choose to go off with Paddy and let the grass burn in the sun.

As astounded as we all were by how well Mossy took to retired life, we were flabbergasted by the transformation becoming a grandfather brought about in him. First Addi, then Elli and finally Benjamin arrived in his life and his heart, already big, grew three sizes with each child. As infants, Grampy spent his time with them cradled in his arms for hours, just gazing into their perfect, sweet faces. As toddlers, Grampy spent hours with them on the floor, playing blocks, tea parties, trains, and puzzles. Grampy pushed them in strollers, pushed them on tricycles, pushed them in little plastic cars, down slides and on swings. Grampy walked the floor with them when they were unconsolable, laid on the bed with them reading book after book when they were sick, and happily changed a diaper, despite getting peed on for his troubles. Grampy loved Addi, Elli and Benjamin unconditionally. There are few people in this world who accept us and cherish us exactly as we are - few who love us for all that we are and all that we are not. Grampy was one of those few. His eyes would alight when one of the kids would jump in his arms. When the world got too much for one of them, we would find Benjamin or Elli or Addi, snuggled deep in the crook of Grampy’s arm, enveloped in his hug, the two nestled in his well-worn recliner tucked away in the corner on the porch - his favorite spot. There was no safer place in the world, no place any of us felt more loved. This gift is Mossy’s, Dad’s, Grampy’s legacy to us all, his family. He made us feel safe, feel cherished and most importantly, loved. Thank you Dad, we love you and miss you.

He is survived by his devoted wife of 60 years, Evelyn Ryan; his three children Mary (David Hoffman), Michael (Maki Matsumoto) and Anne (Greg Englund) ; his three grandchildren Addison Englund, Elli Englund and Benjamin Hoffman. Mossy was preceded in death by his parents Edward and Anatasia Murphy, his brothers Michael and Edward Murphy and by many dear friends who were family to us and brought him endless joy.

As Maurice’s dementia progressed, his devoted wife Evelyn, lovingly cared for him and honored his wish to remain at home. In time, as his needs grew, he was joined by a dedicated team of kind, compassionate caregivers, and most recently, by the supportive team at Good Shepherd Hospice. The family extends their heartfelt gratitude to all who cared for Mossy with such kindness and dignity.

A Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated at St Agatha Church, 432 Adams Street Milton, Thursday December 18, 2025, at 10:30 AM. Visitation will be at the church from 9:30-10:30 a.m.

In lieu of flowers, donations in Maurice’s memory may be made to the Boston Food Bank my.gbfb.org .