John Sawatzky
June 22, 1933 - July 14, 2025
John Sawatzky was born June 22, 1933, in Chihuahua, Mexico.
He went to be with Jesus on July 14, 2025
He was predeceased by: His wife, Helen (January 30, 2022)
His parents – John and Susanna Sawatzky
2 daughters: Verna Marlene (in Infancy), Shirley (Jan. 18, 2015)
He is survived by: 1 Son and 4 Daughters – Bruce (Darlene), Diana, Connie (Jake), Darlene (Troy) and AJ (Lawrence)
13 Grand Children and 16 Great Grand Children
John Sawatzky/Dad was born in Chihuahua, Mexico. His family moved back to Manitoba when he was about 3 years old. Dad had an incredible mind, and if you were to ask him where and when they came back, he could tell you the date, the day and even the weather on that day. His memories contained so much detail.
Dad was an amazing man when it came to conjuring up inventions in his head. He would wake up in the middle of the night with an idea of something he had been struggling to do or undo, and would have the details of a tool or some sort of answer to a problem in picture form in his mind. He would get up, write it down and then in the morning he would get to it and create it. He built any number of things, from specialized tools, to silly looking ornamental steel creations, to a snow plane, to a tractor, his Deere John.
Dad had a very great love for his children. He was a busy grain and dairy farmer, but he loved to see his kids having fun when there was a moment in time for some well-deserved outing. These would include walks down at the river property at Minnedosa, Golden Eagle watching in the same area, bottle pick up in the ditches, wading in the water at a gravel pit, and hours and hours of horseback riding or swimming in the river with friends. We kids knew how to work hard, but we also knew how to play hard.
Dad had the belief that hard work never hurt anyone, and if there was one thing that we as a family grew up learning, it was good, strong work ethic. If a job was worth doing, it was worth doing well, or you would likely get sent out to do it again. The family that worked together stayed together.
More than anyone else in this world, Dad was utterly devoted to our mom. His deep love for her was evident in every interaction, and we, his children, knew we were to honour her as the queen she was. Their bond was truly special; they completed each other, and we always cherished seeing them walk hand-in-hand, a quiet display of their affection for each other.
When Dad had a task to do, it was always all in. The family guardian angels needed to be prepared for another whirlwind performance. It is no lie that Dad had some pretty close calls while working. One that stands out to be remembered took place down by the river property along the edge of the gravel pit. It was a very windy day, and Dad was out making fence and pounding posts into the ground with the post pounder that was mounted on the back of an old Z Minneapolis. This particular tractor had a narrow front-end with the front wheels side by side. Dad would drive ahead a few feet and then pound the post in. He kept on repeating the process, hold post, pound it in, move forward….He was holding the next post when he felt someone yank his shoulder. He looked around, thinking it was a neighbour, but there was no one there. He was about to drive ahead again when he really felt a tug on his shoulder. It was hard enough to cause him to step back. He looked up and around again. This time, he noticed something that made his heart pound and blood almost turn cold. He was parked on the very edge of the gravel pit with one front wheel spinning in the air. Had he driven ahead one more post length, the whole thing would have gone crashing to the bottom of the pits, him along with it. God had protected him that time and many others.
Dad could be a hard man, and in many ways, it was a learned, defensive response to life. We will always remember the days when his first grandchild was born and how he changed from a hard cookie to a soft marshmallow. Oh, how he loved his grandchildren and then his great-grandchildren. If they hurt over life happenings, he would encourage them. He was always there to help and answer questions. It seems like such a short time ago that this same little grandson that helped to opened his Grandpa’s heart, also just about drove him crazy with questions. “But why, Grandpa?” or “How come, Grandpa?” But dad would patiently slow his step and answer his questions. These last few years, he absolutely loved to hear reports on all of the grandkids. He would ask about each one by name, and you could see in the depth of his eyes the love and the pride he had for them. He was also known as the scooter grandpa to the great-grandkids. When they came down, they were sure to receive a ride on his scooter down in the garage.
Dad, we all love you dearly and could recall many, many more times of fun and learning that we each take away with us and apply to our own lives. Now you have gone on ahead to see your Lord and Saviour, Jesus, and be reunited with your lovely wife and daughters. Say hi to them, will you? We all love you and will miss you very much.
Private service will be held
June 22, 1933 - July 14, 2025
John Sawatzky was born June 22, 1933, in Chihuahua, Mexico.
He went to be with Jesus on July 14, 2025
He was predeceased by: His wife, Helen (January 30, 2022)
His parents – John and Susanna Sawatzky
2 daughters: Verna Marlene (in Infancy), Shirley (Jan. 18, 2015)
He is survived by: 1 Son and 4 Daughters – Bruce (Darlene), Diana, Connie (Jake), Darlene (Troy) and AJ (Lawrence)
13 Grand Children and 16 Great Grand Children
John Sawatzky/Dad was born in Chihuahua, Mexico. His family moved back to Manitoba when he was about 3 years old. Dad had an incredible mind, and if you were to ask him where and when they came back, he could tell you the date, the day and even the weather on that day. His memories contained so much detail.
Dad was an amazing man when it came to conjuring up inventions in his head. He would wake up in the middle of the night with an idea of something he had been struggling to do or undo, and would have the details of a tool or some sort of answer to a problem in picture form in his mind. He would get up, write it down and then in the morning he would get to it and create it. He built any number of things, from specialized tools, to silly looking ornamental steel creations, to a snow plane, to a tractor, his Deere John.
Dad had a very great love for his children. He was a busy grain and dairy farmer, but he loved to see his kids having fun when there was a moment in time for some well-deserved outing. These would include walks down at the river property at Minnedosa, Golden Eagle watching in the same area, bottle pick up in the ditches, wading in the water at a gravel pit, and hours and hours of horseback riding or swimming in the river with friends. We kids knew how to work hard, but we also knew how to play hard.
Dad had the belief that hard work never hurt anyone, and if there was one thing that we as a family grew up learning, it was good, strong work ethic. If a job was worth doing, it was worth doing well, or you would likely get sent out to do it again. The family that worked together stayed together.
More than anyone else in this world, Dad was utterly devoted to our mom. His deep love for her was evident in every interaction, and we, his children, knew we were to honour her as the queen she was. Their bond was truly special; they completed each other, and we always cherished seeing them walk hand-in-hand, a quiet display of their affection for each other.
When Dad had a task to do, it was always all in. The family guardian angels needed to be prepared for another whirlwind performance. It is no lie that Dad had some pretty close calls while working. One that stands out to be remembered took place down by the river property along the edge of the gravel pit. It was a very windy day, and Dad was out making fence and pounding posts into the ground with the post pounder that was mounted on the back of an old Z Minneapolis. This particular tractor had a narrow front-end with the front wheels side by side. Dad would drive ahead a few feet and then pound the post in. He kept on repeating the process, hold post, pound it in, move forward….He was holding the next post when he felt someone yank his shoulder. He looked around, thinking it was a neighbour, but there was no one there. He was about to drive ahead again when he really felt a tug on his shoulder. It was hard enough to cause him to step back. He looked up and around again. This time, he noticed something that made his heart pound and blood almost turn cold. He was parked on the very edge of the gravel pit with one front wheel spinning in the air. Had he driven ahead one more post length, the whole thing would have gone crashing to the bottom of the pits, him along with it. God had protected him that time and many others.
Dad could be a hard man, and in many ways, it was a learned, defensive response to life. We will always remember the days when his first grandchild was born and how he changed from a hard cookie to a soft marshmallow. Oh, how he loved his grandchildren and then his great-grandchildren. If they hurt over life happenings, he would encourage them. He was always there to help and answer questions. It seems like such a short time ago that this same little grandson that helped to opened his Grandpa’s heart, also just about drove him crazy with questions. “But why, Grandpa?” or “How come, Grandpa?” But dad would patiently slow his step and answer his questions. These last few years, he absolutely loved to hear reports on all of the grandkids. He would ask about each one by name, and you could see in the depth of his eyes the love and the pride he had for them. He was also known as the scooter grandpa to the great-grandkids. When they came down, they were sure to receive a ride on his scooter down in the garage.
Dad, we all love you dearly and could recall many, many more times of fun and learning that we each take away with us and apply to our own lives. Now you have gone on ahead to see your Lord and Saviour, Jesus, and be reunited with your lovely wife and daughters. Say hi to them, will you? We all love you and will miss you very much.
Private service will be held