John Stephen Mazur

Obituary

It is with deep sadness that we announce the peaceful passing of John Stephen Mazur on August 31, 2026, at the age of 74.

John was born on March 25, 1952, in Hamilton, Ontario. In his earlier years, he worked alongside his father at the family’s Texaco station, where he met Irene, who would become his wife. Following the station’s closure, John began a new career as a courier and spent nearly the remainder of his working life with the same company. He worked long days and sometimes travelled out of province to make deliveries, always doing what was necessary to provide for his family. John was predeceased by Irene, whom he continued to miss and speak about often. We find comfort in imagining them together once again.

Life on the road suited John. He loved driving, taking road trips, exploring unfamiliar towns, and finding new places to eat. Some of Amanda’s earliest and happiest memories are of riding beside him in his delivery truck during summer days in Winnipeg. She always preferred staying with him rather than being dropped off with her grandparents – especially when he let her take the wheel and taught her how to steer.

Although John could be reclusive, sharing a meal often brought out his more open and conversational side. Whether it was dinner at a restaurant, a coffee meetup, a birthday buffet, or breakfast at the kitchen table, the company mattered as much as the food. During his final year at home, he frequently persuaded Brian to sit and eat with him rather than taking his plate into the living room. These ordinary meals became meaningful moments of companionship between father and son.

John enjoyed food in nearly all its forms, but cabbage rolls were perhaps his greatest weakness. Irene routinely made a triple recipe, knowing how quickly he would make his way through them. He also enjoyed cabbage and beet borscht, perogies with sauerkraut, garlic sausage, mustard pickles, tomatoes, and anything else that reminded him of home and his family’s roots. The garden Brian started was partly John’s idea – John wanted the homemade food, while Brian did the growing, preserving, and preparation. John enthusiastically enjoyed the results, sometimes so quickly that Brian had to slow down his progress through the jars of beets and pickles.

John was hardworking, dedicated, honest, generous, and dependable. He taught his children the importance of reliability, accountability, perseverance, and following through on their commitments. He taught Amanda practical skills such as changing a tire and her own oil, while also teaching both his children resilience through the way he lived. Whatever difficulty John faced, he kept moving forward and found a way through it.

John possessed an unmistakably dry sense of humour and sarcastic wit. He was proud, fiercely independent, stubborn, genuine, and unapologetically set in his ways. Everyone knew where they stood with him, and changing his mind usually required tangible evidence – although even that did not guarantee success. Beneath his famously grumpy exterior was a kind and generous heart, and his family knew they could call upon him whenever they needed help.

John loved animals, especially dogs. Over the years, Wolf, Stupey, Bear, Neo, Sandy, and Buddy each found a place in his heart. Although John routinely insisted the family did not need another pet, he inevitably became the reluctant convert who bonded with it the most. His beloved Buddy misses him terribly and now sleeps in his bed.

John was an avid reader, particularly in his younger years, and collected so many novels that the family basement became his own personal library. Its shelves were filled with science fiction, suspense, and what sometimes seemed like a million Tom Clancy and other spy thrillers. His love of science fiction extended to television and film: he enjoyed nearly every generation of Star Trek, from the original Captain Kirk years through the newest series – although, true to form, he held strong opinions about the occasional exception. He was also a devoted fan of Battlestar Galactica, The Expanse, Star Wars, and countless other shows, both in space and closer to Earth.

While he was not an avid sports fan, John enjoyed watching CFL football – a tradition he once shared with his father. In recent years, he and Brian bantered about the games, offered their halftime opinions, and debated whether the Hamilton Tiger-Cats or Winnipeg Blue Bombers would come out on top. Naturally, the game was never complete without snacks.

John also quietly enjoyed music more than he might have admitted. When Brian played soft rock or music from the 1970s and ’80s, John could sometimes be caught tapping his hands or humming along. Even his longstanding wound-care appointments became social occasions of sorts; he got along well with his nurses and looked forward to joking and bantering with them during their visits.

John is lovingly remembered by his children, Amanda Irene Stantic and Brian John Mazur, and his granddaughters, Zoey and Eden Little. Affectionately known as “Grumpy Grandpa,” John embraced his role as a grandfather following Irene’s passing. He taught the girls to play chess, let them doodle on his paper towels, exchanged fist bumps, and rarely sent them home without stuffed animals or secretly slipped loonies and toonies. Zoey and Eden will deeply miss his humour, their chess games, and the quiet ways he showed them how much he loved them.

John’s presence will live on through the lessons he taught, the stories his family tells, the recipes they continue to make, and every road trip, football game, shared meal, or visit to a new restaurant. His daily Facebook check-ins, words of encouragement, and familiar “good morning” and “good night” messages will be profoundly missed.

Whenever the family could not celebrate a birthday, anniversary, or special occasion on its exact date, John called it “Flex Time.” It did not matter if a celebration happened late; they would make it happen eventually.

I guess this is the ultimate Flex Time for when we will see you again, Dad – “Beyond The Final Frontier.”

Until then, you will be deeply loved, profoundly missed, and remembered always.

As per John’s wishes, a private family viewing will be held, with cremation to follow.