Sharon Ann Lessard Mohre

Born on April 26, 1944 in Bristol, Connecticut
Passed Away September 20, 2026, in Melbourne, Florida

Sharon Ann Lessard Mohre, 82, of Melbourne, Florida, passed away on September 20, 2026, leaving behind a family who adored her and a world that feels a little darker without her in it.
Born in Bristol, Connecticut, Sharon made Melbourne her home for 62 years. There she built a beautiful life centered not around things, but around people—the people she loved and the people who, inevitably and undeniably, came to love her. For 43 years, she was the devoted wife of Carl, who, until his passing in 2011, lovingly called her his “angel.” Anyone fortunate enough to have known Sharon understood why.
Sharon was the mother of four children, grandmother of twelve, and great-grandmother of two. Her beloved family includes Fred and his wife, Jennifer, and their family—Jordan and his wife, Cierra, Kiele, Conor, Colton, Parker, and Callan; Kim and her husband, Jim, and their family—Bryce, Tyler, and Ryan; Heather and her husband, Chris, and their family—Raiden, Perun, and Odin; and Carl and his wife, Debbie, and their family—Killian and her husband, Joey, and Tanner.
Her family was the center of her world. Nothing made Sharon happier than being surrounded by her children and grandchildren. Wherever they traveled, she wanted to be there. Family vacations were simply better because Sharon was on them. Then again, nearly everything was better when Sharon—known affectionately to many as “Sexy Grandma”—was there.
When Sharon walked into a room, something changed. You could almost feel it. The room seemed a little brighter. People smiled more easily. Conversations grew warmer.
Sharon rarely met a stranger, because she rarely let anyone remain one. She talked to everyone. She made time for everyone. Whether someone had known her for forty years or five minutes, she had the rare gift of making that person feel seen, welcomed, and somehow important. Sharon did not merely move through other people’s lives. She touched them.
And she was funny—in a naïve, self-deprecating way that was entirely her own.
Sharon had an irrepressible sense of humor, an adorable stubbornness, and a personality that could never be duplicated. She could punctuate a moment with an unforgettable “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” And, despite the collective wisdom of her entire family, she once proudly selected a kicker in the second round of the family fantasy football draft.
There were the crossword puzzles and Jeopardy!, the card games and Yahtzee, the gnome multitudes, Christmas (her favorite holiday), purple, Patrón margaritas, and countless little habits, expressions, and stories that will be told and retold—with laughter—for generations. All of it was quintessentially Sharon. Boo Boo. Mom. Honey. Gram. Gramma. Grandma. Grammie. Nonnie. Gi Gi.
Sharon understood something that so many spend their entire lives trying to discover: that true wisdom is not measured by corporate titles, academic degrees, or professional accolades, but by an authentic understanding of what matters most in life. By that measure, Sharon may well have been the smartest of them all.
Sharon knew how to be happy.
She knew how to find joy in good times and difficult ones. She knew how to laugh at herself and with everyone around her; how to forgive; how to make people comfortable; how to love without reservation; and how to greet the world with her beautiful smile. She understood instinctively that life was meant to be shared, family was meant to be cherished, and happiness was found in people, not possessions.
Smart indeed.
Sharon’s legacy will not be found in a list of accolades or awards. It lives in her four children, her twelve grandchildren, her two great-grandchildren, and the countless people who walked away from an encounter with her feeling happier than they had before. Anyone who truly knew Sharon was better for having known her.
Her family and friends will honor her with a private service and a celebration of a life exceedingly well lived—a time for stories, laughter, memories, and, entirely in keeping with Sharon’s spirit, the enthusiastic consumption of Patrón margaritas.
The loss of such a bright light often leaves an aching darkness in the lives of those who were fortunate enough to bask in it. But Sharon’s light did not disappear on the day she died.
Too much of it had already been given away.
Over her 82 years, she shared that light with her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, friends, and even the strangers who, in Sharon’s presence, never remained strangers for very long. There will never be another Sharon. There could not be. But the best parts of her remain—in the people she loved, in the stories they will tell, in the laughter that will follow whenever her name is mentioned, and in the generations of her family who will carry something of her forward.
True to her endlessly joyful spirit, Sharon left a handwritten note to her children: “No tears. Just smiles. You made me so happy.”
The tears are inevitable. But so are the smiles. Sharon spent a lifetime making sure of that.
And because she did, her light will endure.