Obituaries

MARIE YVONNE LORETTE GREEN

JULY 12, 1940 – MARCH 3, 2026

In loving memory of Lorette Green (nee Smith), 85, passed away surrounded by family on March 3, 2026, in Winnipeg at the Golden Door Geriatric Centre.  She is predeceased by her husband Joseph and son Gregory. She is sadly missed and lovingly remembered by her children, son Todd (Marci) Green; daughter Brenda Gurica; son Mark (Juvy) Green; son Chris (Michelle) Green; her grandchildren Stephanie, Matthew, Amy, Jessica, Colby, Hayden, Karlo, Kiera, Landen; and her great grandchildren Xane, Aria, Elira. As well as nieces, nephews, family and friends.

Lorette came from a large family of ten children and was the eldest. She is predeceased by her parents, Ivan & Cecile Smith, brother Edward Smith, sister Valerie Smith, niece Leanne Olsen, brothers-in-law Wes Smith and Fred Hrushowy.

She is also survived by her siblings: Bella Smith (Wes – deceased); Remi (Velma) Smith; Yves (Eileen) Smith; Evelyn (Bob) Urbanoski; Raymond (Lorrayne) Smith; Barbara (Tim) Bagby; and Valerie Hrushowy (Fred – deceased). Sister-in-law Virginia (Bob – deceased) Smith.

Mom was born in McCreary, MB, on July 12, 1940. Over the years she lived in Laurier, St. Rose, Ochre River, Dauphin, Gilbert Plains, and later Winnipeg, MB. In the 1960s, she met the love of her life, Joseph Green.

She worked in Dauphin at Scott’s Hardware, Green’s Farm Equipment, and later at the Saan Store.

Mom was a wonderful cook and made the best cinnamon buns, bread, and perogies. Everyone always wanted her recipes. Lorette also loved to knit and crochet, camp, play cards, bowl, and go for walks.

As a family, we spent many summers at Hill’s Camp with our cousins, and later at Blue Lakes in the Duck Mountains. She loved her children and grandchildren dearly and enjoyed spending time with her brothers, sisters, family, and friends. Family reunions were always a highlight for her.

A private family celebration of life was held to honour Lorette on March 4, 2026. Should friends so desire, donations in memory of Lorette may be made to the Alzheimer Society. The scattering of the ashes will take place at a later date.

The family wishes to thank all the wonderful staff at the Golden Door, Winnipeg, MB for their attentive care and kindness.

Mom, we will love you always and miss you dearly.

 

EULOGY FOR MARIE YVONNE LORETTE GREEN

JULY 12, 1940 – MARCH 3, 2026

Today, we gather to honor and celebrate the life of our mother/grandmother— a woman whose love shaped who we are, whose strength carried our family through life’s storms, and whose kindness left a mark on everyone she met.

Our mother was many things. She was a guide, a protector, a teacher, and a friend. But above all, she was love in its purest form. The kind of love that showed up every day — in warm meals, in late-night talks, in quiet sacrifices no one saw. The kind of love that put others first without hesitation.

She had a way of making people feel safe. When she hugged you, the world felt less heavy. When she listened, you felt heard. When she laughed, it filled the room and reminded us not to take life too seriously. And when she believed in you, you believed in yourself.

Our mother taught us lessons that no classroom ever could — how to be kind even when it’s hard, how to stand strong when life feels overwhelming, and how to give without expecting anything in return. She showed me that strength doesn’t have to be loud, and that courage often looks like simply getting up each day and doing what needs to be done.

She carried so much with grace. There were struggles we knew about and others we didn’t, yet she faced them with resilience and dignity. She didn’t just tell us to be better — she showed us how.

What I will miss most are the small moments. The everyday conversations. The comfort of her voice. The way she could make ordinary days feel special. Those moments may feel ordinary at the time, but they become extraordinary when they are gone.

Though our hearts are heavy, I know her love does not end here. It lives on in the values she instilled in us. It lives on in our family traditions, in our memories, in the stories we will continue to tell. It lives on in the way we treat others — because if we carry forward her kindness, her patience, and her strength, then a part of her will always remain with us.

Mom, thank you for everything. For the sacrifices. For the lessons. For the unconditional love. Thank you for being my home, no matter where I was in the world.

We will miss you more than words can say. But we are forever grateful that we were blessed to call you ours.

May we honor her not only with our tears, but with the way we live our lives — with compassion, courage, and love.

Rest peacefully, Mom.

Meal Times

Mom was the one who fed us. Always.

She prepared most of our meals growing up. And it wasn’t just everyday dinners — she made sure we were taken care of no matter what was going on.

When we were at the campsite, she was the one who stayed back to make sure there was food ready while the rest of us were off enjoying ourselves at the beach. She made sure that when we came back tired and hungry, there was something warm waiting.

And when we were deep into our Dungeon & Dragons campaigns, battling orcs and slaying dragons, Mom made sure all the boys were fed. While we were saving imaginary kingdoms, she was quietly taking care of the real one — making sure no one went hungry.

Her specialties were unforgettable. Perogies. Frog legs. Cabbage rolls. And her cottage cheese pancake rolls — I’m not even sure what the proper name for that dish is, but I know I miss it. I miss the taste of it, and I miss what it represented.

Growing up, meat and potatoes were the foundation of our meals. Solid. Reliable. Just like her.

Now… if you asked her to make a beef roast, you had to be prepared. Unless you enjoyed a well-done piece of leather, you might be in trouble. But thank goodness for her gravy — she could make gravy that saved anything. And honestly, that feels like a metaphor for Mom. Even if things didn’t go perfectly, she always found a way to make it better.

Every meal was her way of saying, “I care about you. I’m here. You’re taken care of.”And we will always be grateful for that.

Bingo Night

After Mom moved to Winnipeg, one of the things we started doing together was playing Kinsmen Jackpot Bingo on Saturday nights. It became our little routine. Something simple, but special.

Most weeks, we weren’t even close to winning. We were usually short four numbers — sometimes more. It almost became a running joke. We’d go, we’d hope, we’d miss by a mile, and we’d laugh about it.

One weekend in March 2019, it was just Mark and Mom playing. Now, I had always teased Mark — I told him that if they ever actually won, I’d know because the phone would ring just after 6 p.m.

Well… that Saturday, the phone rang.

And sure enough, they had finally done it. They won. A little over $700.

It wasn’t just about the money. It was the excitement in her voice. The joy. The “I can’t believe it actually happened!” moment. After all those weeks of never being close, that was the time.

That memory captures something about Mom. She didn’t need big, extravagant things to be happy. A simple Saturday night, sitting together playing bingo, sharing laughs — that was enough. And when she finally won, she was thrilled, not just because of the jackpot, but because she got to share it with the people she loved.

Those Saturday nights weren’t really about bingo. They were about time together. About connection. About laughter. And that’s what I’ll always remember.

Golden Door

Our mom was one of the nicest, most caring people we have ever known — and I don’t say that lightly. It wasn’t just that she was kind when it was convenient. She was kind all the time. It was simply who she was.

She didn’t turn kindness on and off. It wasn’t something she performed. It was natural to her. If someone needed comfort, she gave it. If someone needed encouragement, she offered it. If someone just needed a smile, she had one ready.

In her last days at the Golden Door, we heard stories from the workers who cared for her. They described her in ways that didn’t surprise us — but meant everything to hear.

• They said she was their dance partner. Their ray of sunshine. A friend. Someone who enjoyed a good sing-along.
• She also would assist the nurses on their rounds. Sometimes she would hide the medicine carts in rooms that she should not have been in.  Plus would take the keys for the cart. The nurse found the keys in Mom’s pockets.  LOL!
• There was a special staff member that she called, “good girl”. This will always warm our hearts.  Mom would kiss her forehead and call her good girl.  This lovely staff always made a point of letting us know this story.  We also witnessed it a few times.

Even near the end, she was still giving. Still bringing light into other people’s days. Still being Mom.

That’s who she was. She made spaces warmer just by being in them. She made people feel valued. She made people feel less alone.

I am so grateful that she was my mom. Of all the gifts in my life, being her child is the one I treasure most. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to live up to the kindness she showed every single day.

If I can be even a fraction of the light she was to others, I’ll know I’m honoring her the right way.

Grandchildren

Mom instilled in us the importance of family. She loved — loved, loved, loved — all of her grandchildren.

Whenever I had to travel, Mom would come to the city to look after Colby and Hayden. The boys had her completely wrapped around their little fingers.

Over the years, both of them took their Grandma for show and tell at school. Here are just a few of the things they proudly shared at the show and tell:

• Grandma made the best cinnamon buns.
• Grandma made the best bread.
• Grandma made the best pancakes. I have the exact same recipe, but Grandma always did it better.

Grandma could not believe how many pancakes Colby could eat at one setting.

One time, Hayden even faked being sick at school so Grandma would have to pick him up. As soon as they got home, he looked at her and said, “It’s time to make bread, Grandma.”

That was the magic of her — love served warm from the oven. Best Grandma ever!

I’m pretty good at making cinnamon buns… but they will never ever be as good as hers.

There was just something about the way she made them — maybe it was her hands, maybe it was her patience, or maybe it was the extra love she kneaded into every batch.

Whatever it was, you could taste it.

And that’s how we’ll always remember her — sweet, warm, and impossible to duplicate.

This story encompasses all the grandchildren.

Mom’s childhood and importance of family

Mom was the oldest child of ten. When they were young, her parents would give her money to take her brothers and sisters to the movies. They would tell her she was responsible for them — and she took that job very seriously.

If there was a scene with a gun and it pointed toward the audience, Mom was convinced it was going to shoot her and her brothers and sisters. Without hesitation, she would gather them all up and march them right out of the theatre.

Sometimes the movie had barely even started before she was dragging them home.

Ed would be so angry with her.

But that was Mom — protective, responsible, and determined to keep everyone safe… even from imaginary danger.

During winter and summer holidays, Mom and Dad hosted her visiting brothers and sisters, along with all the nieces and nephews. Her siblings were spread out across Canada, but they would make special trips to come and see us.

She was loved by all.

Our home was always full — full of laughter, cousins, stories, and noise. We had so many fun times together, and some of our very best Christmas memories were because of her.

She had a way of bringing everyone together and making each person feel welcome and important.

She truly was a very special lady.  Love you MOM!

Crochet Away

Our mom always loved giving her grandchildren gifts she made with her own hands.

When my first two kids, Steph and Matt, came to visit and mentioned how much they loved Winnie-the-Pooh, she got right to work. During that short stay, she crocheted the most adorable stuffed toys — a classic Winnie-the-Pooh and a bouncy Tigger. They turned out so perfectly that when we flew home, people at the airport kept stopping us to ask where we had bought them. No one could believe they had been handmade with so much love in just one week.

Years later, when I remarried, my daughters Amy and Jess hoped for similar toys of their own. Without missing a beat, Grandma picked up her crochet hook again. This time, she made slightly smaller versions — another sweet Winnie-the-Pooh and a gentle Eeyore — specially created just for them. Once again, she finished them during our week-long visit.

Those handmade treasures did more than bring joy in the moment. They inspired the next generation. Steph and Jessica were so captivated that they taught themselves how to crochet, carrying on Grandma’s creative spirit and the love stitched into every loop.