Fr. Richard L. Piontkowski, Jr., J.C.D., 70, of Ashton, died unexpectedly Thursday, August 20, 2026, at his home in Ashton.

Mass of Christian Burial will be held at 10 a.m. Wednesday, August 26, 2026, at St. Mary’s Cathedral in Grand Island. The Most Reverend William J. Dendinger will preside, assisted by clergy of the Diocese of Grand Island. Interment will be in St. Francis Catholic Cemetery in Ashton, with a committal service at noon.

Visitation will be Tuesday, August 25, from 4–7 p.m. at St. Josaphat’s Catholic Church in Loup City, with a 7 p.m. vigil service, followed by a Knights of Columbus rosary.

The family requests that, in lieu of flowers, memorials be made to Friends of Paplin or the North Platte Catholic Schools Endowment.

The mass will be live streamed on to the St. Mary's Cathedral YouTube page. The direct link for that page is https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCGUv8gOMByRuNm-tsrE0NQw. 

Peters Funeral Home of St. Paul is assisting the family.

Fr. Richard was born March 31, 1956, in Knoxville, Tennessee, the son of Richard L. Piontkowski Sr. and Catherine Jean (Still) Piontkowski. Shortly after his birth, the family settled in North Platte, where they were members of St. Patrick’s Catholic Church. He attended McDaid Elementary and graduated from St. Patrick’s High School in North Platte.

Fr. Richard attended Conception Seminary College in Conception, Missouri, where he completed his bachelor’s degree in philosophy and theology. He later attended the University of St. Mary of the Lake/Mundelein Seminary, earning his master’s degree in theology. He was ordained to the priesthood on May 21, 1982, at St. Mary’s Cathedral in Grand Island by the Most Reverend Lawrence J. McNamara.

During his 44 years of priestly ministry, Fr. Richard served at St. Anthony of Padua Catholic Church in Farwell, St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in Elba, St. Libory’s Catholic Church in St. Libory, St. Patrick's Catholic Church in North Platte, St. Mary’s Cathedral in Grand Island. At the time of his death, he was serving as pastor of Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church in Ravenna, St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Pleasanton, St. Josaphat’s Catholic Church in Loup City, St. Francis Catholic Church in Ashton and St. Gabriel Catholic Church in Hazard.

Fr. Richard was a former chaplain and colonel in the U.S. Army Reserve. He received his Licentiate in Canon Law from The Catholic University of America and his doctorate from the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas, also known as the Angelicum, in Rome.

Fr. Richard will be remembered by his twin sister, Carol Hagemann of Grand Island; his brother, Tom Piontkowski of Aurora; and several cousins, nieces and nephews.

He was preceded in death by his parents; sister, Catherine Kwiatkowski; and brother, Jerry Piontkowski.

But perhaps we should let Fr. Richard have the final word. Years ago, in his own humorous reflections on reading obituaries, he wrote that the most important thing to look for in an obituary was love: “Loved by family and friends.”

From Fr. Richard’s Ramblings:

“Nothing like a good waltz through the obituary section of the newspaper in the morning to bring joy to the heart, especially if you’re not in it. At times, though, the normally straightforward rendition of a person’s life and demise can cause concern, confusion, commotion and a cluttering of obfuscated facts. As one who has participated on the more lively end of end-of-life obsequies, I can now help translate obits that initiate questions about the decedent’s life and ending.

“One, if the person died out of turn, say in their 20s, 30s or 40s, look for phrases such as ‘car accident,’ ‘after a courageous battle with cancer,’ ‘after a brief/long illness’ or ‘died unexpectedly.’ These explain themselves.

“Two, if the death log describes the person as ‘persnickety,’ ‘curmudgeon,’ ‘ornery’ or ‘grumpy,’ this decedent was a complete bastard who hated everyone.

“Three, if the person is listed as having had three or more wives and is currently living with a girlfriend, we’re not talking about a poster child for fidelity.

“Four, look for key phrases describing the life of one who has now assumed room temperature. ‘She was noted for her love for her many feline friends.’ Read here: ‘Crazy cat lady.’ ‘He had a love of horses and sports.’ This guy spent more time at the racetrack than at home and married his wife because she had ‘nice withers.’ ‘His friends at the local pub will miss his company.’ This guy had a dedicated seat at the local bar, and the barkeep probably named a child after him.

“Five, and most important, look for love. ‘Loved by family and friends’ is the most beautiful phrase in any obit, followed closely by ‘He/She had a relationship of love with the Lord.’ ‘He/She will be missed by all and will leave a void in our lives.’ These simple lines, and many like them, give testimony to the dearly beloved being dearly beloved.

“My obituary? Phrases like ‘He died a cowardly death,’ ‘Cried like a baby when he stubbed his toe,’ ‘Tried to take it with him,’ ‘Nobody could be found willing to be a pallbearer’ and ‘Buried without clothes, since where he’s going, he won’t need them’ come to mind!”

And if Fr. Richard were writing this obituary himself, he would probably insist that we not make him sound too saintly. He would undoubtedly have a few choice phrases to add—and probably a few observations about those of us left behind.

In the final years of his life, Fr. Richard could often be found holding court at the Ashton Filling Station. It became something of a second parish office: a place to sit, visit, tell stories, solve the problems of the Church and the world and, on occasion, enjoy a beverage that was considerably stronger than the coffee. He enjoyed people, conversation, laughter and the simple pleasure of being among friends.

For all his humor, Fr. Richard knew that those simple words said more about a person’s life than a long list of accomplishments ever could.

And so, in the end, that is what should be said about him.

Fr. Richard was loved—by his family, by his parishioners, by his brother priests and by the countless friends he gathered along the way. He was our pastor, our priest, our storyteller, our companion, our brother and our friend. His absence will leave a very real void in our parishes and in our lives.

And somewhere, we suspect, Fr. Richard is already reading this obituary, correcting the grammar, questioning a few of the facts and wondering why we left out the really good stories.

May the Lord whom he served so faithfully welcome him home.

And may our beloved Fr. Richard rest in peace.