Obituary of Robert Greve

After taking a long walk on his shortened dock of life, Robert cashed in his chips, passed away peacefully, and will be pushing up daisies. He loved tapping into his sense of humour, especially when thinking about his own eventual passing. It helped him deal with difficult situations and lighten the mood. Rob had seen many tragedies and funerals in his life and had no illusions about passing on one day. Despite all of the preparation, it came a bit too soon. 

Rob is survived by his loving wife, Patty (Piraino). He was a proud and loving father to his three children, Anastasia (Brian), Danielle (Jaime), and Peter (Dominique), and most recently a cherished grandfather to Grace Denneny. 

He is reunited with his mother, Lima Legacy, and his grandparents, Anastasia and Peter Legacy, and leaves behind a brother, Paul (Kelly). He remains loved by his mother-in-law, Nilde Piraino, and “Uncle” Giuseppe. Brother-in-law of Renata Solski (John), Roland Piraino (Kim), and Guido Piraino (Dina). Rob will be missed dearly by his nieces and nephews and was special “Uncle Rob” to many great nieces and nephews. 

He also leaves behind his companion, Kona. People often say “a dog is a man’s best friend,” but in his case, Rob was a dog’s best friend. Whether it was treats in his bunker gear or a swim and a boat ride in Goulais, he was an instant favourite to any dog he encountered throughout his life. 

Despite his dedication to service and community, he started life as a mischievous youth. He loved running, biking, and “getting into scraps”. His mother warned him that if he was brought back home by the police one more time, he would be taken to the hospital soon thereafter. Rob would colloquially describe this as “being in the doghouse,” however, there was a touch of reality built into that phrase, as he would often retreat to sleep with his dog when he was in trouble. Despite being an undersized teen, he prided himself on his toughness built through judo training, weightlifting, and eventual transition into the world of football. His fearlessness and training in judo somehow evolved into “a scrap” when a teacher in high school was getting physical with another student. Somewhere around this time, the principle of “sticking up for the little guy” was galvanized. The little guy in the allegory was a physically smaller person in Rob’s world, and soon it became sticking up for those who were more vulnerable than he was. And because he grew to assume he was invincible (as many young men do), anyone who wasn’t arrogant or the aggressor became labelled “the little guy”. Nonetheless, he grew into the man most of us knew through discipline and the school of hard knocks, with a touch of travel and adventure with friends. 

Rob was a different kid at Grandma’s. His grandparents undoubtedly molded his morality and smarts that got him through life. Rob was closest with his grandmother, Tay, who taught him card games that ranged from Canasta to Crib to Contract Bridge. Rob ironically wired his analytical, future engineering mind from his grandmother, who was known for social work and charisma. His grandfather, Peter, was a strong, quiet, patient, and hardworking man who reliably modelled how to be a good man. His mother was often working as a school teacher or waitress, but they all still spent considerable time at camp on Lake Superior. Tay had adopted many children and was known for bringing kids who needed time at the Lake out to Goulais Bay. Despite it being the most precious place for Rob, the camp was known to be a place to share with others. After his grandparents passed, his year-round camp neighbour, Pete, was the remaining connection to that lesson. He got to know Pete well, with each playing pranks on the other through the years. He respected Pete and would spend hours sitting at his kitchen table discussing life. For two blue-collar men, they were deeply philosophical while drinking a brandy at the kitchen table. Many of Rob’s best friends and family enjoyed camp with him as well. There were many celebrations, birthdays, boat rides, and beers on the deck. There were even more card games, sled rides, saunas, and luges. Sometimes Rob would go missing, and you could hear Pete’s distinctive cackle, and you knew there was some garlic, wine, or brandy being shared. Every July 1, Patty and Rob (and the kids) would prepare a birthday cake and head over to celebrate with Pete. While most campers were concerned about fireworks or evening plans, Rob was concerned about his old friend Pete. When Pete got sick, it was Rob and Patty who helped him. And when Pete passed away, Rob was there as well. There were many friends like Pete in Rob’s life. Maybe he saw some of his grandparents in them. Perhaps at the root of those relationships was a deep respect for their experiences and wisdom. Or maybe Rob just loved Duff Gordon’s. In any case, camp was also a place of peace for Rob. He was happy with a sauna and sitting by the campfire overlooking the lake or slurping his morning coffee, listening to the cranes and loons. He loved it in all the seasons and plied his hands (with the help of his wife, kids, and friends), raising a sauna, pump house, and entirely rebuilding the camp. He enjoyed the simple pleasures of chopping wood and tapping maple trees in the late winter. He was content being in the water, snorkeling, paddling, or fishing. He was perpetually convinced he would one day find the countless eyeglasses and sand anchors he’d lost in the sandy depths of Goulais Bay. If Rob’s heart had a place, it beat to the rhythm of waves along the shores of Lake Superior. It was the centre of his universe. He loved spending time there with family and friends, but even if it was just him and his dog Kona. 

Although camp and connection to the lake was all seasons, football season had its own special attention. Rob started playing football for the St. Mary’s Knights in high school and continued playing with the Sault Steelers. Football began as a conduit for toughness. Physical and mental toughness were core values because Rob often felt he had to be self-reliant, but soon football grew to offer something deeper. Football built a sense of brotherhood, mentorship, and community. His football career was blended with playing, coaching, and refereeing as he navigated life’s transitions. He started coaching high school football in his 20s and transitioned to officiating in his late 20s. He officiated every year from then until the night before he died, assisting with every season from little league, up to varsity and men’s league. He continued to coach off and on with different teams, forging relationships with players, coaches, and fellow referees along the way. He was affectionately known by other coaches as “Old School” because of his dedication to the foundations. To him, success was built on footwork, positioning, and team cohesion. In his later years, he focused on officiating. He felt it was his responsibility to give back to the community by officiating whenever he was needed. He contributed but also benefited from a team of like-minded referees that were consistent in their support of a strong and safe football community.  

Rob learned many formative lessons from football, friends, family, and the Lake, but his formal education was as an engineer. He was gifted with numbers and loved to build and fix anything that didn’t involve emotions (he would work on building that muscle later). He loved the challenge of calculus and physics. Rob slowly realized that his love of math and physics couldn’t be contained to the theoretical. He spent his time playing football, bartending, and managing the Ramada Inn until he finally found a calling that truly maximized his nature for applied physics. He started working as a firefighter in 1993.

Initially, firefighting had the allure of bravery and facing danger. I’m sure Rob felt that he flexed his toughness on the job by taking on any duty. Similar to football, Rob started by channeling physicality, toughness, and endurance into his work, and like his journey with football, his focus soon shifted to brotherhood and then community. He became more concerned about the wellbeing of his brothers and sisters but especially took his social responsibility seriously. The principle of “sticking up for the little guy” made its way into Rob’s work. He bought into the brotherly culture of the department by raising funds for MD, participating in union activities, and helping with decks, driveways, and roofs whenever needed. He had a soft heart for the people he saw struck by unfortunate circumstances. By 2003, he helped to build the Friends of the Firefighters charity, where he raised and disbursed funds for people in the Sault struggling with disabilities and health issues. He took pride in the professionalism of being a firefighter. He loved to train and especially enjoyed “the grunt work” (which we assumed was named because of all the grunting he did when he had to get his hands dirty). Until the end of his career, he loved the thrill of entering a dark, smoky, and burning building to help someone in need. He’d just as readily jump in to help do CPR or extricate someone from a car. And he surprisingly could still fit into small areas to rescue people in confined spaces. The most important part of a fire, after making sure people and his team were safe, was working hard. And working hard often involved sweating. Despite looking like he was doused by the hose after a tough fire, sweat equity was measured in Watts/ml of oxygen. He who hath worked the most consuming the least bottles, wins. It’s unclear whether he was competing with himself or others, but he had an overdrive to continue pushing his body past the point of exhaustion. This ethic was mirrored throughout his life. Anything in life worth doing was worth overdoing. He moved from commitment to commitment at full speed. 

Despite his go-go-go energy, toughness, and bravery, Rob slowed down at home. He was a girl's dad first and foremost. He prided himself on learning to comb and braid his daughters’ long hair. He loved taking the kids to swimming and canoeing with them on the Lake. He sang songs with them as they paddled, and he played with beanie babies. He never painted nails and thank goodness he didn’t try to learn how to apply makeup. He never did figure out how to colour coordinate outfits (even for himself). Nonetheless, he opened a soft side of himself and developed an emotional muscle that surely fed back into his work as a coach, firefighter, and referee. He may have never fully figured out his wife or daughters, but he figured out how to build things for them. He had the 300-foot dock project, the deck projects, the planter box projects, the picnic table projects, the bunkbed projects, and even the shadow case projects. He appreciated the countless friends who contributed to these projects, even if it was just a beer after drawing out the plans or an extra set of hands to plane wood with. For his son, he had a different set of plans: the canoe, kayak, and surfboard projects came into play. He taught his son how to play football and caught more of his passes than anyone else. He worked to live, and he lived for his family. He loved to travel with his family. He followed their passions and ended up in places he never imagined going. Some of these included an Indianapolis Colts game with Danielle, a Costa Rican cave with Anastasia, the rice paddies of Vietnam with Peter, and the road to Hana in Hawaii with Patty. 

Of all the places he wanted to go and things he wanted to do, Rob left only a few boxes unchecked. He leaves behind a garage that he was getting around to cleaning and a pile of cedar strips that are waiting to be crafted into a canoe. Rob’s garage is the last sacred space that will be mentioned. Rob combined his love for engineering, woodworking, and helping others in his garage. It was another sanctuary for him. A place he could chase perfection and sand down any rough edges (both his and his projects’). He learned how to build things by hand and felt the satisfaction of a job well done. He measured more than he cut and kept safety third. 

Rob approached everything with passion, skill, humour, and a dedication that left an enduring impact on all who knew him. He seems larger than life, and yet each of his contributions was small and measured. Taken from us far too soon, Rob had so much more life to live. Family and friends will forever cherish the memories and times that they had with him. We hope his legacy, passion, and generosity will continue to impact and inspire those for years to come. 

The family wishes to express their deepest gratitude to the first responders with Sault Ste. Marie Fire Services, Sault Ste. Marie Paramedic Services, and the Sault Ste. Marie Police Services. 

Friends and family are invited to attend a Funeral Service in the Chapel at Northwood Funeral Home Cremation and Reception Centre (942 Great Northern Rd, 705-945-7758) on Friday, October 10, 2025 at 1:00 p.m. with Rev. Helen Smith officiating. A Celebration of Life will follow from 4:00 p.m. until 8:00 p.m. at the Quattro Hotel (229 Great Northern Rd.). Memorial donations to the Heart of Service Scholarship (cash, cheque or etransfer to heartofservicescholarship@gmail.com).