Jan. 28, 1929 – Dec. 11 2024
After a five-year struggle with dementia, Theresa Rita Shaw has been struck down in her prime at 95 years young. Wife to the late Colin. Loving mother to Colin Shaw Jr. (Ann), Ken Shaw (Patty), and Darlene Cook (James). Cherished grandmother to Ken Hilderly Jr., Morgan LaViolette (Anthony), Sean Cook (Natalie), and Alicia Levesque (Matthew). Predeceased by her parents Telesphore and Georgina Mousseau; her siblings Mina Mousseau (Frank Nichols), Mae Bennett (Homer), Marie Briggs (Clifford), Esther Allen (Charles), Jeanne Pine (Patrick), John Mousseau (Vivian), Irene Britt (Murray), Joe Mousseau (Joyce), Suzie Johnstone (John), Telesphore Mousseau (Janet), Lynn Cepla (George); and her daughters Jeanne Shaw and Debbie Caruso. Special friend to Irma Bull and Annie Rebek.
Predeceased by many beloved cats and survived by her tabby Tigger. An avowed enemy of dogs, she is also predeceased by Poppy, a Bichon Frise who went from being the Cook family pet to her constant companion.
Born in Massey just as the Great Depression was starting, Theresa was the daughter of a French-Canadian section foreman for the Canadian Pacific Railroad, and she lived the start of her life accordingly. They moved every few years as her father needed, the train stations of the North Shore becoming her childhood homes. They hopped from Massey to Spanish to Cutler to Spragge, with a detour to Aylmer, QC, always making friends, always making memories she would pass on so many decades later.
She slept night after night in the same bed as the rest of her siblings and at Christmas got only one toy that she had to give away to a child in need after Christmas. But for as little as she had, for as often as they moved, it was never the hardships she remembered. It was the rock gardens her mother made, the blueberries they picked. It was the baseball games they played as a family. It was planting seeds with her dad. It was the clay marble she found in one of their new homes’ fireplaces, and that she hid for the next kid of a section foreman to find when they eventually left.
At 16, she didn’t have a choice but to move out. She took the train to Sault Ste. Marie, where she lived in boarding houses and starved under a waitress’s wages at Capy’s Restaurant. Her hosts were kind and helped her as they could, giving her the occasional break from having to sleep the day away out of hunger. Eventually, a friend brought her to the Savoury Café owned by the Jin family, and somewhere in there, she met Colin at 18, the two presumably drawn together by the magnetism all good-looking redheads share. They married soon after, had four little copper-headed kids and adopted a brunette—her niece, Jeanne. Their family started on Grand, but their lives were on Angelina Avenue, their community a little village where everyone knew each other and their kids ran between the yards playing hide-and-seek. It was where all her children grew up, and where Colin would eventually lose his battle to cancer.
It was where she stayed until she was 91, always going to bed at 2 a.m., always taping shows at all hours of the day. To her kids and some of her grandchildren, she was Ma. It was simple and yet it meant everything. She showered them with love, music, food, and so many stories. She gave them a place to land whenever they needed it, a number to call when they needed help. She outfitted them with closets full of handmade clothes. She gave them unfortunate addictions to pop culture they’d never shake. She taught them how to appreciate swearing and comedy through instructional videos such as “Beverly Hills Cop” and “Crocodile Dundee”, even if she never did much swearing herself. She instilled in them a bone-deep loyalty to the Blue Jays, her favourite players being Carter, Delgado, and Bautista.
And there was always music. So much music. Be it from CDs or records or old VHS recordings of music videos, there was always something playing, and almost as often she was singing along. John Denver, George Michael, Eddie Rabbitt, Engelbert Humperdinck, and Liberace all had their time on her stereo. Her house was always filled with warmth—both from the thermostat being locked at a tropical temperature, and in the love she always radiated. She was a kind person, someone who would do anything for anyone and made sure her family knew enough to do the same. She never let you leave town without a care package with everything she thought you might need for the road, be that a little snack or four rolls of toilet paper just in case the car broke down away from a rest stop.
She was a mother to everyone, and she couldn’t help it—if she saw a workman next door not wearing a hat on a cold day, she would be scolding them, then giving them a can of pop. After spending a few decades raising her kids, she dedicated herself to volunteering in the hospital, playing music for patients and making exercise routines, bringing some light and energy into dreary places. Despite all the hardship in her life, she never let it break her, never let it harden her completely. She knew that all we can ever do is keep moving forward and be kind, and let the good memories keep you afloat because there is always work to be done and more life to be enjoyed. Dementia took so many of her memories and old age took her energy, but it never took a drop of her spirit.
Until her very last day, she was the same spitfire redheaded daughter of a foreman she had always been, the same mother, the same grandmother. There is a hole in our hearts now that will never be filled but we will go on, and we will live, because she taught us how to and because that’s how we honour her. All we can do is take solace in knowing the twelve Mousseau children—that baseball team from Massey—have all finally been reunited with their parents, and Ma will be with her husband and daughter again. Loverloo, Ma. We’ll miss you forever.
Over 95 years, for everyone she touched, there were places and people that especially left their mark on her. She adored the Rebek family, Irma and her late mother Annie being mentioned almost daily. From their brief time on Grand, their neighbours Ab and Teresa Lelievre remained lifelong friends. On Angelina, she had the LaRues, the Euales, the Makis, the Bumbaccos, and the Capys. She always appreciated visits from Priscilla and Barry Pratt when they delivered her Avon orders. Until it closed its doors, her and Colin found hospitality and friendship with the Chow Brothers at the Victoria House. The Vic’s logo was a constant fixture in their home, even on the T-shirts her grandkids wore on Friday night sleepovers.
She appreciated many years of excellent care from Dr. Pauline Bragaglia, Triesta Delmonte, and Dr. Brian Mitchell at the Group Health Centre, who played a huge part in keeping her healthy and giving us so many years with her. As per her wishes, her body has been cremated. A celebration of her life will be held at a later date. In lieu of flowers, please consider a donation payable by cheque or online to the Ontario Finnish Resthome Association. Even if Mauno Kaihla Koti was never truly the place she wanted to end up, she was always grateful to the nurses and their care. The family shares that sentiment.
In her last moments, she was treated with dignity, and compassion, and that isn’t something she would let us take for granted. Arrangements entrusted to the Arthur Funeral Home - Barton & Kiteley Chapel (492 Wellington Street East, 705-759-2522). Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be offered at www.arthurfuneralhome.com for the Shaw family.