Dianne Schwestak

Born in Vancouver and raised in Duncan Dianne met her true love and life companion while studying in Vancouver. When Karl’s work took him to Winnipeg he sent for her. They married soon after, started a family and set deep community roots for 42 years. In 2000, they moved to Crofton, BC to be closer to their grandchildren who were only too happy to include them at family dinners, sports events, dance recitals, camping trips, ski trips and spring break cottage-on-the-beach trips to Mexico. The prairie people even bought a boat and joined in the Gulf Island Adventures!

Dianne was a deeply spiritual and caring person and this was reflected in her everyday personal and professional life. She firmly believed in her God-given unique gifts (Jeremiah 1:4) to fulfill God’s purpose. She did so with love and joy as a Sunday school teacher, a play therapist at Winnipeg Children’s Hospital, a nursery and daycare owner and teacher, the founder of the Winnipeg Grandparenting Society ( like Big Brother’s), a Hospital Chaplain in Fred Douglas Lodge long term care home in Winnipeg, and, when her own dementia made it necessary to live in a long term care home herself, she chose to continue her chaplaincy “undercover”. She helped residents find their rooms, hugged them and told them they were beautiful, she rallied fellow residents to the rec programs and let them win, “wink wink” while cheering them on. The lovely recreation staff spoke to her like a teammate and let her assist in the distribution of juice and cookies. It did not take long before she said she felt loved and that she had a purpose there.

Predeceased by her husband Karl Schwestak and son Kirk Schwestak, she leaves to mourn her daughter, Kelly Wolter, son-in-law, Mike, grandchildren, Tristan and Natalie Wolter, brother Glenn Horrex (Pip), and numerous nieces, nephews, great and greater and a multitude of dear friends that she continued to make throughout her life.

If able please join us to celebrate her life at St Michaels All Angels, 2858 Mill St, Chemainus, BC at 2pm on Saturday, September 13, 2025, for full mass followed by stories and sharing at the hall at 3pm. All are welcome to either or both. Mom has friends far and wide so if you are not able to attend please include a memory or comment at www.firstmemorialduncan.com noted here.

Thank you to all the kind people that supported my Mom in her later years, the true villages of Crofton and Chemainus, her St. Michael’s community, Dr. Friderichs, VIHA community care givers, the staff at Beacon Hill Villa and the amazing team at Cowichan Hospice – the house that love built. Thank you to all that kept her heart and soul thoroughly nourished.

Tribute for Dianne from her brother, Glenn

Today, I find myself reflecting on the passing of my sister Dianne - and with her passing, the closing of a chapter. I am now the last of my generation, and that truth weighs heavily. This year has been filled with memories of friends and family who are no longer with us, and each loss leaves a deep ache.

Dianne was the sibling I knew the least about, despite our many years of contact. As a teenager, she was my babysitter when needed - and I was her little shadow, especially when Karl came calling. I was her embarrassment when she tried to play the responsible adult, and her annoyance when I got in the way. But she was always my sister.

When Dianne and Karl moved to Winnipeg and I moved to New Zealand, our relationship stretched across continents. We couldn’t have been farther apart, but the bond remained. It wasn’t until they returned to Crofton that we reconnected more deeply. By then, she was in her 60s and I was in my 50s, still living in New Zealand - but whenever I visited Canada, we made time to talk, laugh, and reminisce.

One of my favourite stories from our childhood was something Mum used to tell. As a little girl, Dianne would proudly introduce herself as “Dianne ‘a-little-bit’ Horrex”- her own adorable interpretation of the name ‘Elizabeth’. Mum loved that story, and so did Dianne.

Dianne was 11 years older than me and often looked after me while Mum was working. I remember one time she accidentally broke my leg… according to her, anyway… and had to rush me to hospital. She later told me Mum was not impressed and gave her a good telling off for hurting her “angelic baby boy.” Mum’s words, not mine!

Years later, while visiting her in Winnipeg, she thought it would be hilarious to plaster my arm (which wasn’t broken) just before I flew home to Duncan - hoping to convince Mum that lightning had struck twice. But Mum wasn’t fooled. She took one look and said, “That’s impossible!” and refused to believe it. Dang, Mum was sharp!

Over time, I came to understand that Dianne faced many health challenges throughout her life. These affected her physically and emotionally and sometimes made it hard for us to see eye-to-eye. She held strong opinions and didn’t always want to hear mine – two peas in a pod in a way - so we learned to change the subject and move on. One memorable moment was when she tried to explain the science behind some pills she was taking - and giving to her dog. I questioned it, and by the time I got home, she’d left me a voicemail reading directly from the pamphlet. That conversation didn’t end well, but it was classic Dianne.

Despite our differences, Dianne’s faith was unwavering. She was deeply committed to helping others and found great purpose in her church community. She became a Chaplain and used her experiences to guide and support those around her. I was especially moved by the grace and professionalism she showed when speaking at our mother’s and sister Adele’s celebrations of life.

Last year, while Dianne was living in Victoria, Kelly kindly took us down for visits - and those are the moments I’ll treasure most. A picnic in Beacon Hill Park, lunch at the government building, a lovely gastro pub, and a visit to a petting zoo. Dianne was lively, talkative, and full of energy - she even walked faster than I could! Those were wonderful times.

We didn’t always agree, but we always found our way back to laughter. That’s what I’ll hold onto. The good chats, the shared memories, and the moments that made us family. She was part of my beginning, and now she’s part of my goodbye. I’ll carry her with me - in stories, in laughter, and in the quiet moments when I remember. Goodbye, Dianne. You’ll always be with me.