Michael Siegfried Muhr

He was given the gift of life, and now he has to give it back. But what a life it was. Losing him feels impossibly unfair.

Michael was born on June 20, 1963, in Munich, Germany, and passed away in Kamloops, British Columbia on May 24, 2026, a month before his 63rd birthday and just seven weeks after a cancer diagnosis that gave us far too little time to imagine life without him.

Michael immigrated to Canada in July of 1984 at the age of 21, first arriving in Peterborough, Ontario before moving west to Vancouver. In 1985, he met Mandy (nee Manak) and a relationship that would span four decades, two sons, and a lifetime of friendship, began. Though they eventually went their separate ways as husband and wife, they never stopped being family. They remained partners in parenting and were family in every way that was important, relying on one another through ordinary days, difficult seasons, celebrations, crisis, and everything in between, because they understood that hardships are just part of life, but how they handled those hardships determined their success.

Michael, known simply as “Michi” to his German family, was the second oldest of six children born to Brigitte (née Daschner) and Leonhard Muhr. He is survived by his mother Brigette, siblings Markus (Brigitte), Martina (Gerd), and Monika (David).

He was predeceased by his father Leonhard (d. 2021), his sister Manuela “Mela” (d. 2010, Peter), his younger brother Christian (d. 2017, Janderson), losses he carried heavily throughout his life.

Michael loved his nieces and nephews dearly: Dominic (Katarina), Stefan (Julia), Nicole (Chris), Vitor, Winnicius, as well as great nieces and nephews Jonas, Pia, Julian, and Melina.

He shared an especially unique bond with his sister Monika. They lived together, worked together, argued together, laughed together, and (mis)understood each other in a way only squabbling siblings sometimes can. Their relationship is hard to explain to anyone else, but neither of them would have wanted it any other way.

Michael’s proudest role in life was being a father to Tristan (Tatiana) and Quintin. They were unquestionably the center of his world and he was immensely proud of them. He taught them how to build things with their hands (though not always without smashed fingers), how to build things properly (most of the time), how to work hard without complaining, how to help people without expecting recognition, and most importantly, how to be good human beings. They learned from him not through lectures because he never lectured, but by watching the way he quietly lived his life. And quietly is exactly how Michael preferred things.

He never wanted attention, but people gravitated toward him anyway. Conversations with Michael were often unexpectedly deep. Whether you had known him twenty years or twenty minutes, he had a way of making you feel important and heard. He remained convinced that he did not have a German accent, even after 40 years of living here. His family strongly disagreed, especially every time he said “zanks” instead of “thanks” or “zwee” instead of “three.”

Michael was also deeply loved by the Manak family, including sister-in-law Anoop Kooner (Paul), and brothers-in-law Par Manak (Raji) and Ash Manak (Dahl). He is predeceased by his mother-in-law Gurmit (d. 2013) and father-in-law Harbhajan (d. 2018). “Family” for Michael and the Manaks was never defined by legalities or paperwork. Once you were in the family, you were in it for life. He will be missed by his nieces and nephews Christopher (Taryn), Jasmine (Rob), Michelle (Mike), Ryan (Kiran), Eric, and Rebecca. He also leaves behind great-nieces and nephews Ben, Alex, Liam, Enzo, and Sienna. To them, he wasn’t just an uncle, he was simply “Michael” and sometimes “Michael Fufardji” - funny, generous, and always willing to tell them a scary story over a cup of hot chocolate.

Professionally, Michael was an incredibly talented renovator and builder, though to him, he was “just helping out.” He spent years building cabins, renovating homes, solving other peoples problems, and showing up for them with tools in hand. He gave away thousands of hours helping family, friends, neighbours, and complete strangers without ever wanting recognition for any of it. If someone needed help, Michael showed up, coffee in one hand, Coke in the other. If Michael was in your life, you always knew there was someone you could call. Whether you needed help building a deck, moving a couch, fixing a leak, or simply talking things through, he showed up.

Michael also maintained a long-standing and financially significant relationship with Tim Hortons. Powered almost entirely by multiple large Triple Triples a day and questionable amounts of sugar, he somehow operated at full speed from morning until night for decades on nothing more than caffeine and sugar.

One of the images we will carry forward is Michael at Seymour, coffee nearby, already halfway through the next project with a random piece of wood he picked up from the beach. Together with Tristan, Quintin, Monika, and Mandy, they built an off-grid escape that became the heart of the family. The deck, the dock, the campfires, the chaos of too many projects, the ebb and flow of the changing lake, were all reminders that, like life, nothing stays the same and that even good things must change, even if we don’t want them to.

To children, Michael’s house was “Disneyland.” It was the place all the kids wanted to be. He bent rules when he probably shouldn’t have, occasionally sneaking teenage house parties past unsuspecting parents (and apparently his wife), and somehow made every person around him feel welcomed, safe, and happy to stay longer than they probably should have.

In his final weeks, Michael was cared for at home by people who knew him best: Tristan, Quintin, Mandy, Monika, his mother Brigitte, and Tatiana. Those weeks were devastating and beautiful all at once. There was exhaustion, heartbreak, laughter, tears, late-night conversations that stretched into early-mornings, and moments of grief and love beyond words.

Our family would like to extend heartfelt thanks to Montana Morrison, RN, for making the long journey to Seymour Arm to help care for Michael with such kindness and compassion.

We are deeply grateful to Dr. Brennan Arduini for his extraordinary patience, empathy, and guidance as our family navigated an impossibly difficult time and the MAiD process with Michael. We would also like to thank Dr. Orlando Passerin, whose care and support extended far beyond Michael himself, and helped carry all of us through these past months.

And finally, there are simply not enough words to thank Tatiana Gilbert, whose steady presence, organization, and endless attention to detail helped keep this family afloat through absolute chaos. She carried far more than anyone probably realized, and we will forever be grateful for her love, patience, and care.

There are no words large enough for the absence Michael leaves behind, but we would rather have this grief than to never have known him. How lucky we were to have him at all! He left pieces of himself in the lives of everyone lucky enough to know him. We are better because he was here.

Thank you for everything, Michi.

In lieu of flowers, we request that you do something kind for someone. Help a friend. Fix something for a neighbour. Buy someone a coffee. Show up when someone needs you. Tell them you love them. Tell them the things you would want to say if they weren’t here tomorrow. Michael would have preferred that far more than flowers.

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