In Loving Memory of Arthur “Art” Albert Joseph Filion

July 31, 1953 – November 22, 2025

There are men who move through life the way an engine hums at idle — steady, warm, full of stories tucked beneath the hood, unmistakably theirs.

Art Filion was one of those men.

Born and raised in Sudbury, he grew from a wild-hearted boy into a man stitched with grit, humour, and a kind of love that spoke not in speeches but in actions. His hands were rough, his nails forever lined with grease — and yet those same hands built a world of safety around the people he loved.

Art was a mechanic in the truest sense — not just by trade, but by instinct. He spoke in engines coming back to life, vehicles held together with “band-aids,” and long nights under the glow of a shop light. He could fix just about anything… except maybe his own stubbornness — though even that was part of his charm.

He loved his family, his friends, and his food, passing down that rhythm and soul to his daughters, Megan and Chantal, who carry his soundtrack in their hearts. He made the best giblotte, told the truest stories, had the sharpest one-liners, and could out-eat and out-drink nearly anyone brave enough to try — especially if raspberry pie was involved.

His granddaughters, Janessa and Shyanne, were the brightest sparks in his world, softening the edges of a man who pretended to be tougher than he was. His “fur grandbabies” added joy, mischief, and warmth to his days.

Art’s circle of love was wide: his son-in-law Jacques; his siblings Robert “Bob” (Rose Mary), Fernande (predeceased), Gerald (Nicole), Bernard (predeceased) (Mairi), Lorraine (Alan, predeceased), Gilbert (predeceased), Lionel (Liette), and Elise; many nieces, nephews, cousins; and his loyal lifelong friends Gene, Jill, and Dino. He steps now into the quiet where his parents, Arthur and Germaine, his brother Bernard, and his brother-in-law Alan wait with open arms.

He believed in simple things: a radio or TV murmuring in the background, honest work, fiercely loyal friendships, and a black coffee strong enough to peel the paint off a car. If you want to honour him, start there — a hot cup of black coffee held between your hands, and a moment to hug the people you love a little tighter.

And for those who feel moved, donations to Cystic Fibrosis Canada — in honour of his granddaughter Janessa — would mean the world.

Art had character. He lived loudly, loved fiercely, and left slowly — the way legends do.

His story doesn’t end here. It carries on in the hands he taught, the hearts he shaped, and the work of “Art” he left behind. ❤️ Details for a celebration of Art’s life will be shared by the family at a later date.