Bruce James Hosie

Bruce James Hosie, 77, of Flint, Michigan, passed away on September 28, 2026, leaving behind a life defined by hard work, family, the outdoors, and the satisfaction of making something with his own two hands.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to Alzheimer's Association or Arbor Day Foundation

Born and raised in Flint, Bruce was the son of Ted and Maxine Hosie and grew up in a large, working-class family alongside his siblings Craig, Linda, Norma, William, Janel, Karen, and Clark. His father, Ted, spent his career with General Motors, and Bruce would eventually follow a similar path. After beginning work directly out of high school, Bruce joined GM in his early twenties and spent approximately 40 years with the company. He worked for much of his career at Buick City in Flint before transferring to GM’s Lake Orion plant, spending years on the line and later working as a quality checker before his retirement. Growing up in a busy household and spending a lifetime working helped shape the independence, work ethic, and practical nature that remained with Bruce throughout his life.

Work was simply part of Bruce’s nature. He believed in getting the job done, paying your dues and your debts, and doing what you said you were going to do. He was soft-spoken and easygoing. He believed in standing up for what was right, and never gave up on something once he started it.

That same attitude followed him home. Bruce was the guy people called when something needed to be fixed, figured out, or built. When Bruce said he would be there, he was there.

For years, the basement of his home held a woodworking shop that was unmistakably his. Bruce built the workbenches, tables, drawers, and much of the shop itself. When a project was underway, sawdust covered everything and the unmistakable smell of freshly worked wood filled the room. When the project was finished, the shop went back to being clean, organized, and orderly. Everything had its place. Bruce did side work building cabinets and countertops, but woodworking wasn’t simply another job. He made things because he enjoyed making them, including toys for his children and even a Kentucky long rifle for himself.

If Bruce wasn’t building something, there was a good chance he would rather be outside. He was an outdoorsman throughout his life and loved hunting, fishing, camping, and simply being in the woods. Whitetail deer hunting was a regular part of life, and for many years the family freezer rarely lacked venison. Walleye fishing was a particular favorite, and there were countless weekends spent heading north and getting away into the woods.

One particularly memorable trip took his son Daniel and Daniel’s best friend far into the Canadian wilderness with one of Bruce’s fishing buddies. Miles from civilization, they stayed in a tent, encountered wild bears, and caught more fish than they could have hoped for. It was one of many adventures through which Bruce passed along something he understood instinctively: respect the outdoors, learn how to take care of yourself, and appreciate being somewhere wild.

Bruce’s first family included his former wife, Rebecca, and their sons, Michael and Daniel. He later shared approximately 30 years of his life with his wife, Kathy, becoming part of a second family that included Kathy’s children Philip, Jody, and Michele.

Family to Bruce extended well beyond biology. He never treated Kathy’s children or grandchildren as somehow less his own because they weren’t related by blood. They were simply family. During the early years of his retirement, he played an especially important role in helping raise Jody’s sons Kane and Michael, giving them the same steady presence, guidance, and care he brought to the rest of his family.

Bruce experienced one of the greatest losses of his life in 2000, when his son Michael passed away. The loss of a child is something no parent expects to endure, and Michael’s death affected Bruce deeply. It was a loss he carried with him for the rest of his life. His wife, Kathy, also preceded him in death after approximately three decades together.

Bruce was grandfather to Erica, Michael’s daughter, and Maple, Daniel’s daughter, as well as Kane, Michael, Morgan, Grant, Corey, Megan, Mataya, Xander, Braylee, and Allyssa, all of whom he embraced as his own grandchildren. He was also a great-grandfather to Erica’s sons, Daniel and William.

As a grandfather and great-grandfather, another side of Bruce was easy to see. He could be peaceful, calm, gentle, happy, and curious, content simply spending time with the younger generations of his family and watching them grow.

For all of Bruce’s seriousness about work and responsibility, he also loved to laugh. He enjoyed joking around, had a particular appreciation for dirty jokes, and rarely traveled through a day without Coca-Cola somewhere nearby. Usually more than one.

As the years passed, the hunting, fishing, camping, and projects gradually became less frequent. Bruce eventually developed dementia. What began as forgetfulness progressed until he required full-time care. The disease changed many things about his final years, but it does not define the life that came before it.

Bruce’s life is better remembered in the things he made and the things he taught. He taught that if you want something, sometimes you make it yourself. If something breaks, you try to fix it. You work. You pay what you owe. You keep your word. You stand up for what you believe is right. You respect nature. And when people depend upon you, you show up.

Like anyone, Bruce didn’t always perfectly follow every lesson he passed along. He was human. But the lessons remained.

They remain in his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. They remain in the things built by his hands, in memories of weekends up north, fishing trips far from civilization, a freezer full of venison, the smell of sawdust in a basement workshop, and a cold Coke never very far away.

Bruce spent much of his life working, building, fixing, providing, and doing.

And when the work was finished, everything went back where it belonged.