BOWEN, Susan Bowen

There are some people who move through the world loudly.

And then there are people like Susan Rossiter Bowen who made it brighter simply by being in it.

Susan left us on February 10, 2026, surrounded by love, after a long and courageous battle with cancer. True to who she was, she carried a gentle optimism through to the very end — mild in manner, but fierce of heart.

If you could wrap Susan in a single word, it would be wholesome. But that word would have to stretch to hold her infectious laugh, her quick wit, her competitive streak, her love of Dairy Milk chocolate and Skittles, and the alarming number of Jujubes she consumed over a lifetime (truly, she may have been part Jujube).

Before she was anything else, Susan was a mother. Emily and Ella were the center of her universe; her proudest accomplishment, her greatest joy, and the two people for whom she would (and did) move mountains. She taught them to drive with the patience of a saint. She rallied her family constantly, for dog walks, hockey tournaments, dinners, time together in any form she could manage; because to Susan, family wasn’t something you simply had. It was something you held close and took joy in, like the quiet pleasure she found in her roses each summer.

Long before motherhood, she was the kind of aunt every child hopes for. Jessica, Jodi, and Bradley knew her steady kindness early on, and the time and love she poured into them helped shape the beautiful humans they are today.

Susan worked hard — quietly and without fanfare. While raising her family, she spent 13 years in night school earning her CPA. Thirteen years. The kind of quiet perseverance that defined her. She went on to dedicate more than 30 years to Procor, where she was deeply respected and genuinely loved. She enjoyed going into the office, being face-to-face with her team, sometimes even biking over 10 kilometers to get there. She made friends at
work the same way she did everywhere else; completely and for keeps. When Susan made a friend, it was for life.

She met Mark on New Year’s Eve in 1989 — which sounds far more romantic than she would ever admit (she would absolutely roll her eyes at anything too Hallmark-y). She held a passionate dislike for cheesy Hallmark movies and the song “Achy Breaky Heart,” yet somehow delighted in delivering punny dad jokes with perfect timing, fully aware of the eye rolls they would earn from her girls.

Susan found joy everywhere. In art museums and live theatre (she saw Mamma Mia! multiple times). In books: from Lassie as a child to Margaret Atwood, Stephen King, and Fredrik Backman as an adult. In Leonard Cohen songs drifting through the house and a glass of red wine by the fire, curled under a blanket with her beloved Creesis in her lap.

She was competitive; wonderfully so. She found sport in almost anything. Her high school basketball team was such a treasured part of her life that it earned a place in her niece’s baby book alongside Wayne Gretzky — which feels exactly right.

She cheered hardest for the underdog. She wanted to see people succeed, especially when others doubted them. She loved unapologetically and with her whole heart. Compassionate and gentle, but quietly strong. Authentic. Optimistic. Quick-on-her-feet funny. The kind of person whose laughter could lift the mood of an entire room.

She adored her granddog, Scout. To him, she was simply “Gran.” He was granted unlimited cheese privileges and a rightful seat at the Christmas dinner table, as any first granddog should be.

Susan was predeceased by her father, Bernard Rossiter, and her father-in-law, Wayne Bowen, with whom she shared a special bond. She leaves behind her loving mother, Marie Rossiter; her beloved daughters, Emily and Ella; her cherished nieces and nephews, and her siblings Helen, Jason, Gerard, and Wanda, who was a devoted caregiver to Susan through her first round of treatments.

She is also deeply held dear by her dear friends Rhonda, Elise, and Meraj; whose steadfast presence, fierce loyalty, and tender care carried her through her illness and surrounded her with love in her final days. Her warmth, her laughter, and her boundless love live on in all of them. Their devotion was a quiet, extraordinary gift.

She will be remembered as well by the extended Bowen family, her Procor family, and many dear friends near and far.

A Celebration of Life will be held on February 21st from 2–4 p.m. at Dodsworth & Brown Funeral Home. All who knew and were touched by Susan’s heart are warmly invited to attend and share in remembering her.

In keeping with Susan’s compassionate spirit and her love for animals (especially those who appreciate cheese), donations in her memory may be made to the Burlington Humane Society in lieu of flowers.

Susan’s life was not measured in grand gestures, but in steady love, deep loyalty, and countless small, beautiful moments; flowers blooming, lilacs drifting through open windows, family gathered close.