Robert Albert Deptula, Jr., 71, of Dallas, Texas, passed away peacefully at home in his sleep on March 3, 2026, snuggled up to his wife, Jeanne.

Born February 25, 1955, in West Orange, New Jersey, to Robert A. Deptula, Sr. "Bob" and Irene Eve (Bayowski) Deptula, Robert's early years were marked by challenges that would shape the man he became. Raised with the love and support of his sister, Karen, and the McGlynn family, he developed resilience, frugality, and self-reliance. He began working early and put himself through Rutgers University, but he would tell you he really graduated with honors from the "New Jersey School of Charm and Diplomacy."

The Deptula name evolved over time, shaped by language and place, but Robert liked to say a Polish nun once told him it meant "to trample or squash"—a meaning that, in many ways, seemed to fit.

At age 27, Robert survived a devastating car accident in which he was briefly declared dead—an experience he later described as hovering above his body in the operating room and seeing the white light of heaven. He spoke about it openly, often sharing that he was free from pain and that it was not a frightening experience, in the hope of easing that fear for others. The experience shifted his perspective and trajectory, leaving him with a quiet certainty about what comes next and a lasting absence of fear in the face of death. Perhaps that is why he took risks, moved on quickly from an argument, and never skipped a perfect day at the lake—even if it meant driving down just for the night.

He followed his best friend, Rob Cone, to Dallas after a transfer within Xerox—a move that would change the course of his life. There, he met Jeanne, his wife and partner of more than 40 years. Together, they built a life rooted in love, laughter, and family.

Robert went on to build a distinguished 35-year career in commercial real estate, including more than two decades as a Principal at Transwestern Commercial Services. He was respected for his insight, instincts, and relationships, as well as for his unmistakable personality—quick-witted, direct, and impossible to ignore. He had a way of cutting through the noise and saying exactly what others were thinking, whether they were ready to hear it or not.

At the center of Robert's life was his family. He shared his life with Jeanne and their children, Kristen Sanderson (Andrew), Cameron Deptula (Lauren), and Claire Deptula. He was "Popo" to his grandson, Dax, a role he cherished deeply, and eagerly awaited the arrival of another grandson, Duke Robert, expected next week. After the loss of his sisters, he stepped in to care for his nieces and nephew with the same steady presence that defined so much of his life.

He is survived by his nieces and nephew, Rheanna and Camden Thompson, Nina Byard, Melissa Mirandi, Bridget Safara and Kimberly Safara; his step-brother, Chris Safara; and his step-sister, Tara Bowerman, along with a wide circle of people he loved—and who loved him—like family. He was preceded in death by his sisters, Karen, Melanie, and Holly, and his parents, Robert A. Deptula, Sr. "Bob" and Irene Eve (Bayowski) Deptula.

Robert's sense of family extended far beyond blood. He opened his home to students over the years—young men and women far from their own families—who lovingly gave him the nickname "Gringo Daddy." He embraced them as his own, offering guidance, humor, and a place to belong. He shared a special bond with Xavier, whom he proudly introduced as his seven-foot son—with a grin that made it clear it was said with love. Together, he and Jeanne also supported orphanages across Central America through the foundation Nuestros Pequeños Hermanos, extending that same care and generosity far beyond their own home.

Robert was endlessly entertaining. He was quick-witted, unapologetic, and a natural mentor, with a distinct New Jersey edge that made people laugh—often at his own expense. A lifelong reader, he started each morning with The Dallas Morning News and The New York Times, with a particular fondness for the obituaries. He always had something to say about what he read. He loved a little gossip—personal or professional—and his kids liked to say, "don't telephone, don't telegraph, just tell Robert," because he wasn't always the best at keeping secrets. He had no filter, and those who knew him best wouldn't have had it any other way.

His love language was acts of service. He showed up—whether helping a single mother get a car, opening his lake house to those in need, or arriving with a pickup truck and trailer ready to move furniture or rally a crew for a project. He connected people, created opportunities, and got things done—often before anyone else realized it needed doing.

He also carried a sense of humor about himself. He referred to himself as "Wheels Wonderful," claiming it placed him above traffic laws—and somehow, he seemed to get away with it. Despite a life most would call successful, he was rarely found with his wallet or phone—and often without a shirt—details that only added to the legend.

Robert fought stage IV prostate cancer for 19 months with strength, resilience, and his signature humor. He was supported by extraordinary medical teams, including Doctors Courtney, Kandil, and Dohopolski at UT Southwestern Cancer Center, and Doctor Bob Viere at Methodist Hospital. The family is especially grateful to the nursing staff, whose compassion and care brought comfort throughout his journey and gave him the precious gift of time—time he used to walk Kristen down the aisle at her wedding in December. He was lifted by an outpouring of love from his community—something his work wife, Nora Hogan, described as filling him with a level of love he had never known. The family extends their deepest gratitude to those who stood by him through visits, calls, prayers, and unforgettable bucket list trips. He loved you greatly, and you loved him well in return.

In the final chapter of his life, Robert chose to be baptized again—this time as an adult—making a public declaration of faith that was entirely his own. Though baptized as an infant in the Catholic Church, he felt called to take this step himself. He chose immersion baptism, completing it with determination, humility, and great effort despite not having the use of his legs. We trust that God welcomed him at the pearly gates, saying, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

A celebration of life will be held at Park Cities Presbyterian Church at 2:00 PM on March 27, 2026, followed by a reception. In his honor, guests are encouraged to wear bright colors—he would not want a room of mourning, but one filled with the vibrancy he loved, especially the colors of spring and the flowers in his garden.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Robert Deptula & Family Scholarship Fund at Texas Christian University, supporting outstanding senior students with exceptional potential as future leaders in commercial real estate in the Dallas–Fort Worth metroplex: https://advancement.tcu.edu/new/give/RobertDeptula.

He lived fully, loved deeply, and did it "my way." In the end, his life was not only successful by every measure, but meaningful, generous, and full. If Robert were here to offer one last piece of advice, it might be this: don't wait. Take the trip, make the memory, and do it now—because the "right time" has a way of passing you by.

The man, the myth, the legend.

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