Lois Jean (Kilgore) Smith

At 3:33am on 4/4/24, the universe dimmed as Lois Jean (Kilgore) Smith softly embarked on her final voyage to reunite with the love of her life, Mike. While her departure has etched a profound void in our hearts, we take solace in knowing she’s no longer suffering. Lois is no doubt tending a garden where cerulean skies tumble to the horizon; where colorful songbirds serenade her every step; where dusty Kansas winds dare not visit; where garden tomatoes are always in season; where her salt shaker never empties; where cold Pepsi awaits in the fridge; where she zips around on her Bad Boy mower ensuring no blade of grass is out of place; and where her friends visit often, but don’t stay too long—because this industrious woman has stuff to do: bed sheets to hang on the clothesline, thirsty flowers to water, windows to wash until sparkly clean, and hungry felines to feed.

The youngest of three girls, Lois was born around midnight in Syracuse, Kan., on September 27, 1942, to parents Bernard and “Mikie” (Wheeler) Kilgore. Her family settled in Manter, Kan., where Lois was a gifted basketball player and completed her high school degree at Manter High School. She’d spend summers helping her mom iron jeans out of their home—25 cents per pair of ironed and starched jeans—helping the family make ends meet. Her roots ran deep in Manter, where she blossomed amidst the fields and open skies, a testament to the enduring spirit of her family’s farming and ranching heritage.

On February 6, 1971, Lois married her soulmate, Mike D. Smith, in Las Animas, Colo. Their union was a testament to devotion, spanning more than five decades of love, laughter, and the kind of partnership that stories are made of. While Mike often basked in the limelight, it was Lois, with her unwavering resolve and dedication, who was the heartbeat of their home, nurturing their family and creating a haven in their cherished country oasis. Through her tireless efforts, Lois provided the foundation that allowed Mike to chase his dreams—and her endless contributions made them an indomitable couple.

With her boundless ability for laughter, she always had a snappy comeback at the ready: watching his cats, Mike would often say “I wish I was a cat.” With her comedic timing (much to Mike’s chagrin), Lois would retort “Why? So you can lick your own butt?”. She hoped they didn’t have iceberg lettuce in heaven—as she’d made thousands of salads (Mike’s favorite) during their marriage. Not long after he passed, she heartbreakingly revised that sentiment: “I’d do anything to make him one more salad.” Her heart, broken after his passing, never fully healed—and her cancer diagnosis, just 11 days prior to her death, was all she needed to tap out. She knew she was the stronger of the two—able to endure the pain and loss by going second. “It’s just the way it was meant to be,” she said.

Famed for her wit and unshakable spirit, Lois navigated life with a humor and grace all her own. Born with something of a plastic KFC spork in her mouth, Lois helped pull her family up by their own bootstraps. She loved KFC chicken and often drove the kids to Ulysses to get a bucket of chicken they’d devour while driving home to Manter. With her penchant for cleanliness, chicken buckets, napkins and cups would be tossed out the window going down the highway at 70mph in her caramel-colored Lincoln town car. Years later, her son toiled picking up countless KFC buckets while volunteering in the Adopt-A-Highway program. When traveling, Lois always visited nurseries and filled every inch of the Bonanza, RV, or pickup truck with exquisite flowers that permeated the air with their intoxicating scents—and barely left room for her family. Without fail, she decorated family graves on Memorial Day, never forgetting the strong shoulders upon which she stood.

Under her loving gaze, all children (especially those enduring trauma) found a champion and an ally who not only offered warmth and wisdom but respected and uplifted them with every interaction. An avid spectator at her grandkids’ volleyball, football, and softball games (and ardent Kansas City Chiefs fan late in life), Lois was the granny loudly honking her horn to rally the team to victory.

As a perennially devoted wife, mother, granny, daughter, sister, and friend, Lois always put her needs last. Whether caring for her cancer-stricken mom, setting aside her yard work to iron the kids’ clothing, or pausing cleaning to make a home-cooked lunch and wash Mike’s Air Tractor windshield, she was always two or three steps ahead of everyone else. She never complained about these opportunities to care for others. Even at 81, she could run circles around anyone, no matter their age, and do it with a smile. Having triumphed over cancer three times before, she was an exceptionally resilient woman who found great joy in the thrill of gambling at casinos, a pastime she dearly cherished. You always knew you were a dear friend when she referred to you as “kid”—it was her secret term of endearment for those she valued most. She was a woman who, despite personal sacrifices, nurtured a family, a home, and a legacy of kindness that reached far beyond the confines of her garden.

Just after Easter (her favorite holiday), with an ice cold Pepsi in her cupholder, Lois fired up her Kubota one more time and embarked on her final journey towards the rising sun, to a place where flowers bloom eternal and love never fades. As we bid farewell to Lois, let’s remember her not with sorrow but with the strength, joy and laughter she brought into our lives. In her memory, let us live fully, love deeply, and tend our gardens with the same passion and dedication she showed throughout her life.

Lois is preceded in death by husbands Mike Smith (2023) & Mike Troutman (1969); her parents Bernard (1981) and “Mikie” (Wheeler) Kilgore (1998); mother-in-law Ann (Grilliot) Smith (2018) and father-in-law Mahlon Smith (1987); brothers-in-law Calvin Warnock (1964) and Gerald Brickman (1986); sister Pat (Kilgore) Brickman (2015); nephew Kelly Brickman (2017); sister-in-law Kathy (Smith) Tomlin (2023); brother-in-law Harold Tomlin (2021); and great nephews-in-law Roland Tomlin (2017) and Ike Beauchamp (2021).

Lois is survived by sons Shaun Troutman and Brandon Smith; daughter Leslie (Doug) Harbour; grandchildren Landin Troutman, Ellison Troutman, Addison Harbour, Keaton Harbour, and her “adopted” grandson Gerardo Robles; sister Darlene (Ronnie) Davis; fourteen brother and sister in-laws; numerous nieces, nephews, and cousins; and her five beloved barn cats: Orph, Simon, Tom, Tux, and Mama.

A graveside service to honor Lois’ remarkable journey will be held at the Stanton County Cemetery in Johnson, Kansas, Friday, April 19, 2024, at 2:00 PM with Vernon Butt officiating. In lieu of flowers, the family suggests contributions to the My Stuff Bags Foundation, in care of Garnand Funeral Home, PO Box 715, Johnson, KS 67855, a cause close to Lois’ heart, providing comfort and belongings to children in need. Often, these children find themselves in foster care or at a shelter with nothing of their own. The foundation provides blue duffels filled with stuffed animals, coloring books, small toys for all ages, games and puzzles, school supplies, books, and a security blanket—a source of physical and emotional comfort to these children during a time of great need. Condolences may be posted at www.garnandfuneralhomes.com.
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The family would like to give special thanks to Dr. Elizabeth Bailey, Michelle Burt, Mary Smith, Janelle Nickell, Jessie Muret, nurse Larissa Polzin and nurse Tina Kerns.