Edward Walter Nowak

Edward Walter Nowak passed away peacefully in the early morning hours of December 31, 2024, at the Swan River Health Facility. He was 92 years old.

Born on May 29, 1932, in Swan River to Bronislaw and Francesca Nowak, Ed was the youngest of five children. His roots ran deep in his hometown, where he spent his entire life—growing, working, and building quiet but lasting connections with those around him.

Ed was predeceased by his parents; his sisters Helen King and Yanina (in infancy); his brothers Stanley (sister-in-law Mary) and Kazmer; his nephew Gregory Nowak; and his niece Christine Eady.

He leaves behind a family who loved him: his sister-in-law Bernice Nowak; nieces Valerie Minish (Reid) and Gail Chimilar (David); nephew Brian; niece Elaine Vezeau (Dennis); and their families. He will also be lovingly remembered by his close friends Ron Woroniuk and Karen Miller, whose friendship brought him companionship and comfort over many years.

From a young age, Ed was drawn to the blacksmith shop his father owned—a place that would shape his life and character. He spent countless hours there as a boy, learning the trade by watching, listening, and eventually doing. After finishing school, he made the forge his career, and welding became his true craft. Ed’s skill and dedication earned him a strong reputation; he was the one people called when they needed something done right. He worked far beyond Swan River, even traveling north for construction projects—fondly remembering his time in Cranberry Portage building the tower and hangar as one of his favorite adventures.

As the years passed and Ed stepped away from welding, he found joy in his garden. He spent long hours tending to his plants and was always eager to share the fruits of his labor with neighbors and friends. Even when he could no longer garden on his own, his friend Ron stepped in to help, allowing Ed to stay connected to the earth he loved.

Ed lived simply but fully in the family home on Crescent Drive, surrounded by kind neighbors who checked in on him, brought over meals, and shared in his quiet company. Their generosity—especially deliveries of muffins, meals, and Merle’s chocolate cake—allowed him to live independently for as long as possible. When the time came for more support, his niece Valerie and her husband Reid gently helped him manage the things he could no longer do alone. Their care gave him peace of mind and dignity in his final chapter.

Even after a fall in late summer took away his independence, Ed remained gracious and good-humored. He became a favorite among the nurses who cared for him, quick to smile and always loved a good joke or humorous wisdom by Reid: “Don’t take any wooden nickels.”

On the last day of 2024, Ed slipped away quietly in his sleep—leaving behind a legacy not of grand gestures, but of steady hands, loyal friendships, quiet strength, and the kind of love that endures.

Rest well, Ed.
You were a son, a brother, an uncle, a friend. And now, your work here is done.