Obituary of Robert Bower
Robert "Bob" Winston Bower passed away at Lloydminster Hospital, Lloydminster, Saskatchewan on March 19, 2024 at the age of 83 years.
Robert Winston Bower was born in North Battleford, Saskatchewan on January 5th, 1941. Bob was the only child of Frank and Margaret Bower of Fielding, Saskatchewan.
Bob is survived by his loving wife of 46 years, Kathleen Bower; children, Shelly (Warren) Sjoquist, Sherry Bower-Gagne, Brenda Trask, Allen (Laurae) Topott, Wayne (Connie) Topott; grandchildren, Orry Sjoquist, Sharlie (Tim) Donily, Breanne (Jason) Anderson, Cody Perkins, Brittany (Max) Jorgensen, Stephanie Trask (Tyler Scheiflie), Jamie (Danno) Villeneuve, Kennedy Topott (Brody Collins); great-grandchildren, Syler, Isabella, Ruby, Jack, Sawyer, Sadie, many honorary grandchildren and cousin, Margaret Tingley.
Bob is predeceased by his parents, Frank and Margaret Bower; son-in-law, Maurice Gagne; and granddaughter, Taylor-Rae Topott.
The Celebration of Life for Bob will be held at Lloydminster Legacy Centre, Lloydminster, AB, Sunday, May 5th from 2:00-4:00PM.
Bob was a man known for his many unique sayings. Please share these as well as your memories. These will be a great source of joy for our family. As he would say “See you in the soup!”
Donations in memory of Bob may be made to Lloydminster Regional Health Foundation or donor's charity of choice.
Written by Bob’s daughter Sherry; compiled with the contributions of memories and stories of those who loved him.
Dad carries the legacy of his father, Frank Bower, who was separated from his family at 14 years of age. He was sent from England to Canada as a British Home Child in 1914. Our family historian, dad’s dearest cousin Margaret Tingley (Auntie Marg to us), shared the story of how Grandpa Frank lied about his age to enlist in the Royal Canadian Army - Medical Corps in 1918.
Returning from the army, grandpa found land near Fielding, Saskatchewan where he settled. In time he met Grandma Margaret in Fielding when he was taking cattle to be shipped on the train. Auntie Marg shared the romantic story of how impressed Grandpa Frank was when he saw this skilled horsewoman in Margaret, thus was the beginning of dad’s story.
Dad shared many stories of growing up on the farm and attending school in Fielding, Saskatchewan. During family road trips back to the home site he would share stories of grandpa teaching him to drive the old farm truck and having it end up in the slough. Dad would reminisce, laughing, about the humour and the patience that his dad had shown when coming up with a plan to get the truck out.
Dad carried many of grandpa’s characteristics; his kindness, patient nature, humour, grit, and tenacity were just a few of the positive traits. These were also the qualities that carried him through difficult times in his life; he would take these difficulties head on with his “it is what it is” and “let’s get `er done” philosophy.
Writing dad’s eulogy proved to be so much more difficult than I had ever imagined. How could I write about a man that meant so much to me, a person that I could talk to about anything, an individual who might disagree- but still listen to my perspective? I know that I am not the only person that felt this way; there are so many of us.
Dad had the gift of connection, he invited everyone he met to feel important by the way he listened, the way he would lean in made everyone feel truly heard and seen. If you knew him really well you would be able to read some of his facial tells. The clenched jaw and the way that little muscle in his jaw would work was a message that it was probably time to change the subject, or his patience was getting thin. The thing with dad was that it wasn’t a temper that you wanted to avoid - it was the thought of disappointing him.
He helped life make sense and gave the comfort that things would get better just by saying “I don’t know kid” leaning forward, putting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands, and looking at the floor. He would shake his head and say “I guess it is what it is.” In our world this felt comparable to the valued words of the “serenity prayer.” It brought things into perspective, helped us identify what was within our control, exploring the options with optimism, and sometimes “it just was, what it was.”
When I offered to write dad’s eulogy I felt like I totally had it under control. There was no way that I could read it, but I could write it! I could write the story of his life, not miss anything and get it right! What is it they say about the “best laid plans, paths, and good intentions?!” Oh, how I have struggled, multiple boxes of Kleenex …. ok, Scotties, hours staring at the screen, and hundreds of breaks. This was getting more daunting and I was becoming more defeated. How would I ever write a story about a man who meant so much to me?
I believe the universe, or a greater power, offers opportunity when we need it most. Recently I was working with a student, they were experiencing anxiety around getting writing assignments “perfect”, they would write and delete, over and over, they shared that they were very critical of their work “it was never good enough.” Sometimes by inviting a person to see things from another person’s perspective and to look at things from a different angle can shift thinking, I thought a teachable moment! I shared the struggle I was having and asked what advice the student could give me. My goal was to inspire them to take their own advice. What happened was a gift for us both. They suggested I brainstorm; it might not be perfect, and someone will probably find something wrong with it, but if I wrote from my heart about my memories and about the things that I would miss, it would be perfect.
I asked them how I would know that I was done; the answer was inspiring and left us both laughing. Their response was so true, the wise words of a 15-year-old; they said, “you will be happy with it, it will be good enough, or you will have hit the deadline.” I began to write with a different outlook, it would be from my heart, the way I remember it and with love. It will also be a family conversation starter and have each of us spending numerous memorable times reminiscing and my beloved family giving personal pictures and perspectives of the memories, the very thing that makes memories so meaningful!
Thank goodness for dad’s resume that Kaye had kept. This gave me a framework to begin. We all think we know our family's history until we begin putting it on paper, the timelines start blurring and the brain begins pulling from faulty memories. But as my sweet daughter keeps reminding me, these are your memories and that is what is important and special.
Dad had a passion for travel and driving; that passion continued throughout his entire life, it would impact the work that he would pursue and frame some of his favorite pastimes.
His love of people, carpentry, and making music also influenced the direction his life would go.
Most of dad’s working career involved spending his days and nights doing anything that was related to a set of wheels. Before dad began his “formal employment” as it was described on his resume, he worked driving cement truck, farming, as well as trying his skills at furniture sales.
I enjoy relating ages to milestones, imagining dad at that time and pulling out the photos. At the time of dad selling furniture he would have been 24 to 25 years old. In 1965 he would join Templeton Transport out of Saskatoon. In 1967 at 26, he transferred through the company as a lease driver for Nelson Lumber in Lloydminster. Dad would begin delivering homes throughout western Canada for the next 6 years. He would team drive “run double” and create lifelong friendships. Dad had exciting and heartfelt stories of mountain roads, wildlife, and long hours on the road.
When dad would have shorter trips and would be driving alone, special memories were created for Shelly and me; we would be invited to come along for the ride. The joy of riding and sleeping in the bunk, rubbing our socked feet on the walls creating ‘static sock lightning’, the ‘thunk’ of the trailer connecting, the smell of diesel and the ‘little tree’ pine air freshener still brings a rush of nostalgia and happiness.
Living in Marshall, Saskatchewan, there were many memories of family and friends coming together, making music, skidoo parties, and a community helping and working together. During this time mom and dad would separate and dad’s life would take him on a different road.
This next part of his life’s journey was traveling with his soul mate Kaye. They shared a mutual love for their children, music, traveling, camping, and fishing with each other and family and friends. They would find happiness and would experience difficult times; they celebrated and navigated these together. These were the years that their band “Misty Blue” was created and their passion for music grew. They and their friends Barry Chappell, Paddy Hume, Lyle Currie and Ron Hayward would share their music in communities in the greater Lloydminster area and beyond.
Dad’s genuine, positive personality, the way he would greet, joke and ‘kibitz’ with people quickly created a connection, this brought him a lot of joy; he truly enjoyed being with people. This gift, along with a strong and professional work ethic, would be an asset during his time as a self-employed carpenter, working in sales, driving a propane truck, then into management with Canadian (ICG) Propane, Lloydminster Co-op lumber and then Windsor Plywood.
During this time in 1984 at 43 years of age, dad and Kaye would be visiting Uncle Les and Auntie Karen (Kaye’s sister) In Winnipeg; they were out bowling when dad had a massive heart attack. He was very fortunate to survive, thanks to the quick thinking of Auntie Karen who was nursing at the time, and Uncle Les knowing the shortcuts to the hospital. Two years later he would receive a quadruple bypass surgery. Throughout the rest of his life dad survived multiple heart attacks and many medical emergencies. Tough as he was, he had more to do in his life.
Dad eventually would join the R.M of Wilton #472 as a grader operator; it was close to their home at Maple Grove Acres near Lashburn, Saskatchewan, and took him back to his love of driving big vehicles. Unfortunately, he would have to leave that position later in 2001 when the symptoms that he had been living with were diagnosed as Progressive Multiple Sclerosis (MS).
This diagnosis brought a new chapter to Dad and Kaye’s life. Difficult decisions were made; they sold their beautiful acreage and moved to Lloydminster. The MS Society became a big part of their life as they began navigating this new journey. They would develop new friendships, become dedicated volunteers, dad would join the MS Society board, and they became very active. They became busy with carnation campaigns, MS Walks, building parade floats, supporting the staff of the Lloydminster office, improving their lives and the lives of others living with MS.
During this time Kaye retired from working outside the home and would begin providing childcare in their home. The inspiration for this plan was Wayne and Connie moving back to Lloydminster with new jobs and their beautiful daughter, Kennedy. She brought with her a multitude of love, delight, and excitement for grandpa and grandma. Soon there would be the addition of other children who would bring more joy and fill their home with the energy that only children can bring. These children became like siblings for Kennedy, extended the family and brought the gift of honorary grandchildren. These children are now grown, but the family’s deep connection remains the same.
As a family, we all know that a large part of dad surviving so many hurdles was the dedication and determination of ‘Kathleen’. Dad always called Kaye by her full name; to me this symbolized his respect for her. They met every hurdle together, head on, as partners, dealing with each circumstance as it arose. The way they navigated some of the most difficult of life’s challenges, balancing each other with a blend of empathy, logic, and that “it is what it is” philosophy, was truly an inspiration to witness. When one faltered, the other would add resilience, grit, optimism, and attention. They would acknowledge the problem, set focus, and move forward. They were strong role models for all of us and inspired the way I choose to live my life to this very day.
As anyone living with chronic illness does, dad would experience lows and feelings of hopelessness. Kaye would make sure appointments were made, connections pursued, medication and symptoms tracked, and provide him expert care. All the while being his best friend and confidant. She would always remain encouraging, even though we, as her children, knew that it was not easy for either of them.
Dad meant so many things to us, when I asked family members about their memories it was so obvious his genuine and kind nature shaped what we value in our lives every day. The thing that stood out most about the memories of dad was how we all felt loved and understood. The way he connected with each and every one of us, we always felt accepted. His patience and kindness, the way he would take the time to listen and the way we always felt seen, heard, valued, and that he was proud of everything we did. He would always greet everyone with a cheerful “Hey, Buds”, or “Sweets”.
His grandchildren would bring so much joy to his face; the way he would lean in to listen and genuinely be interested in what they would show or tell him, was so infectious for those around him as well. He always celebrated and shared his admiration for their successes and never lost his awe and wonder. He connected through his love of music and animals of any sort. Whether it be wildlife or pets, his love for animals and the curiosity to learn more about them was mutual. Chatting and learning from each other was a gift that was given and cherished.
Before his body would begin to struggle, he enjoyed working outdoors, a pristine yard brought him so much satisfaction and pride. He would spend hours in his shop working with wood; building and repairing. If any of us needed advice, or help on a project or home repair, he was there. He would share his support and his knowledge, teaching and motivating. There was always the added advice, “measure twice, cut once” and of course “if it doesn’t fit, get a bigger hammer”.
He will be truly and deeply missed by his loving family and friends.
See you in the soup dad.
