Loie was a wonderful sister, Mom, grandmother, great grandmother and aunt. This tribute is from her eldest granddaughter, Emily:
My Grandma Loie—my kiddos GiGi—left this world peacefully last weekend. In true GiGi fashion, she did things her way until the very end… including giving us one final, incredibly generous gift: the time to say goodbye, to hold her hand, and to thank her for the kind of love that shapes a lifetime.
I’ve been trying to figure out how to sum up a woman who somehow managed to be the main character in every chapter of my story. As the oldest grandchild—and the only granddaughter—what we had was ours alone. Special in the way that feels impossible to explain but easy to recognize if you were lucky enough to witness it.
When I was little, she was my partner in crime and my personal loophole. If my parents said no, I already had Grandma’s number dialed—because we both knew she’d say yes. Her house was magic: polka dancing in the living room, wagon rides around the farm, exploring abandoned buildings, making necklaces out of church bulletins.
As I grew up, she somehow became not just my grandma, but one of my very best friends. We talked about everything and nothing—sometimes every single day. I would give anything to hear her pick up the phone one more time and answer how she was with, “Not too damn bad,” like it was the only correct response to that question.
And then I became a mom—and watching her love my babies might have been my favorite chapter of all. She showed up in every way that mattered: holding babies, adding another blanket (for her and the baby), and somehow still making sure I had a hot cup of coffee or a moment to breathe. When we lived in North Dakota, she and my mom would hop on a train at least every six weeks just to be with us—because that’s just who she was. Showing up wasn’t something she did, it was who she was.
Our “Grand Adventures” to Duluth—four generations, so much laughter, and just enough chaos—will forever be my kids’ favorite memories and some of my most treasured ones too.
This past week has felt impossible in a way words don’t quite cover. I miss my person. I miss her voice, her wit, her stubbornness, her way of making everything feel just a little bit lighter. I know she was ready, and I know she knew we’d be okay… but that doesn’t make the space she left any less enormous.
A piece of my heart—and each of my kids’ hearts—went with her.
I’ll find her in the waves of Lake Superior, in the smell of KFC, in the background noise of the Game Show Network, in a York Peppermint Patty after dinner, and in the unmistakable sparkle in my kids’ eyes.
Give Poppy a hug from us—and if the Bandwagon is playing wherever you are, I hope you both are dancing.
Until we meet again, GiGi. 🤍
https://www.dsofuneral.com/obituaries/eloise-zellmer
