Funeral service will be held at 11:00AM on Saturday January 14, 2023 at the Winkler Sommerfeld Mennonite Church with interment at the Reinfeld Cemetery. Viewing will be from 1PM-8PM on Friday at Wiebe Funeral Home, Winkler. Donations may be made in Frank's memory to Winkler Sommerfeld Church- Home Mission 

Frank Loewen
1938 ~ 2023

Today we say good by to Frank Loewen, here on earth, but as the Christian faith tells us and what dad believed is that we would meet again one day. But still today will be extremely difficult letting him go especially for my mom. But I know for sure that he will live on in our hearts and minds forever.

Dad was born in Warman, Saskatchewan, Canada in 1938. Baptized in May 17,  1959 as a public commitment to christian faith. He married Anna Loewen July 19, 1959. They had 4 children, John Loewen (Trish), Mari Loewen, Pete Loewen (Mandy), Christine Bergen (Cory), grandchildren, Ashton Krahn (Dustin), Abby Wiebe (Austin), Isabella Wardrop (Jonathan), Jyana Martens (Nolan), Kaden Bergen, Rylee Bergen, and 4 great grandchildren Kingston Krahn, Charleston Krahn, Remi Wiebe, Hadley Martens.

Don't cry for me after I'm gone, dad always said. Come cry with me now. But over the last few months when he was really sick, and we would start to cry, he would look at us and quickly say. Oba heir es Nucht tome roaren. (there is nothing to cry about here)

Shortly after he was born, his family moved to a mennonite community in Mexico. And at the age of 18 he came back to Canada with his father, to the land of opportunity. 

Dad was very proud Canadian born, and he often reminded us. But I believe part of his heart was always with Mexico.

We grew up with tacos, and pica dillo, and canned jalapenos on every dinner table. We never gave it a thought that our family might be a bit different than other families in the village of Reinfeld where my parents made their life, and we grew up. Well, except for that 3-foot tall cement Mexican with a Sombrero that sat on our front lawn and greeted every single person as they drove up the driveway.

Good food was very important to dad. And lucky for him my mom became an amazing cook. My daughter Isabella once asked , Grandpa why did you marry grandma? and he quickly replied, Her Food!

Together my parents ensured when it came to food we always had the best. They kept gardens of fruits and vegetables they harvested and preserved. They would buy an entire beef or pork and together with family, spend an entire day preparing and carving the meat and at the end of the day, rows of neatly wrapped brown paper packages would be waiting to be divided among family and friends. 

Dad was sensitive, curious, fearless and generous to a fault. He lived his life with passion and followed his every dream. He was a creator, an inventor, and entrepreneur and through his actions we all learned that anything is possible. No need for education or formal training, just start a business!

There wasn't a single idea that came to his mind that he didn't pursue. In this world we are often told to focus on one career, but Dad had thousands. He was a builder, Played violin, harmonica, accordion, gardener, butcher, strawberry farmer, steam engine builder, grandfather clock maker, made church pews, and kitchen cabinets, made dentures for locals, he made every single thing in my parents home from the furniture, the clocks, wooden vases, to the wooden spoons my mom used in her kitchen.

But most people will remember him for his talent for wood, and His final work was at ICON technologies working with his son John Loewen, where his final project ended January 2020, much earlier than he was ready for.

My brother John writes “ For nearly 20 years Dad made various molds and patterns for ICON, He would carefully and skillfully handcraft the wooden molds to our manufacturing specifications. Many of the products originated from a very simple sketch, often times from just a verbal conversation and no drawings. He had a VERY unique skill…the ability to see in his mind's eye long before he began making the item. 

Dad was a humble giver. And gave money to charities he believed in, especially to children in Mexico when he learned they were born with a cleft palate or had other serious disabilities. 

Over the past 3 years, his health failed, and he had chronic pain. He went from hospital to home and back to hospital and finally to the personal care home. 

We learned what the disease dementia does to your mind. For Dad it brought all of his memories to the surface, and swirled them around, but all of them clear and real, from different times in his life. 

When we visited he was always fully dressed, with his wallet, and pen in his shirt pocket, and ready to go back home. Hei lats me night heah, he always said.

But even though it was a very difficult journey, the words I heard him say most, were thank you, for the nurse, the doctor, the visitors the cooks, the cleaners, anyone who did anything for him, in a proud voice, he always said thank you!

On dad’s final day, my mom made a homemade chicken stock for a soup she was planning to bring to dad. And still today she wonders if she did enough. This is the poem she chose for today.

Dad, as we look back over time we find ourselves wondering… Did we remember to thank you enough for all you have done for us? 

For all the times you were by our sides to help and support us… to celebrate our successes and understand our problems and accept our defeats? 

Or for teaching us by your example the value of hard work, good judgment, courage and integrity? We wonder if we ever thanked you for the sacrifices you made, to let us have the very best? And for the simple things like laughter, smiles and times we shared?

If we have forgotten to show our gratitude enough for all the things you did we're thanking you now and we are hoping that you knew all along how much you meant to us.

To end, I found this quote which makes me think of dad. 

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I do not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'.

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