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Christopher Allan Kitto

20 Jul 1944 - 15 Jul 2026

KITTO, Christopher Allan

20 July 1944 – 15 July 2026

Dearly loved husband of Margaret

Loved father, Poppa and friend to all.

“Special thanks to all the amazing staff

at Bupa Willowbank”

A celebration of Chris’s life will be held at the Dunstall Memorial Chapel, Edwardes Street, Napier on Monday 20 July 2026 at 2pm, followed by a private cremation.

‘Please wear your club or rugby jersey’

A live stream will be available at www.dunstalls.co.nz

All tributes or messages to The Kitto Family may be left online or posted C/o PO Box 1055, Napier, 4140

Condolences to the Kitto and wider family my thoughts are with you on this painful day.

Glenn Bryan ( 20 Jul 2026 )

In loving memory of Uncle Chris

We remember Chris the way he moved through the world: gruff on the outside (maybe that was just the beard), and occasionally grumpy — though Stephen and I would like it formally recorded that we were never, at any point, responsible for any of that. Ever.

Over forty years ago, he was the driver for our adventures around the South Island, a trip built on long roads (not talking on the straight back from Oxford was tough), big landscapes, and the unforgettable moment in Kaikoura when the station wagon’s axle simply gave up on life and exited the vehicle. These are the types of memories that will always live on.

Rugby ran through him like a second bloodstream. Not everyone gets to take selfies with the Gallagher Shield in their own backyard — but Chris brought it home, and that’s exactly what we got to do. He can’t get in trouble for that now. He loved the game with a kind of fierce joy that made you love it more just by being near him.

And then there was Christmas. Every year, without fail, Chris would demonstrate his unique ability to fall asleep after dinner in whatever location gravity and circumstance allowed — often under the washing line, as though the universe had quietly parked him there. It became part of the family rhythm, as reliable as the ham glaze and the paper crowns.

We’ll miss his dry humour, his steady presence, his stories, his stubbornness, and the way he anchored a room simply by being in it.

Rest well, Uncle Chris. You were one of a kind, and we’ll carry your laugh, your grumble, and your heart with us always.

Quentin ( 19 Jul 2026 )