Helen Daly Obituary

From Scotland

Mrs. Daly, I will never forget. Although I often didnt understand her words, I could tell what she meant. Growing up, Pauls house was just a short-cut through the neighbors yard from mine and was like a second home, and she was like a second mom. Mrs. Daly was very kind. And sometimes, when wed sneak cookies from the jar, shed get kind of angry. Yet, I didnt mind, because I thought her vernacular then even more hilarious. My siblings and I had a lot of fun at Pauls house. Mrs. Daly, we miss you.

Well, Helen, you have the nerve to up and leave us. Who will embroider all the stories now? You may think that I, for one, cannot still hear your Ayrshire brogue, because Hellen, I can still hear you! And with this admission, my dear friend of so many years, what else can I say? I will miss you, always.

Dorothy Till, Friend since we partied together in Peterborough, Ontario (196?)

As my parents were friends with the Dalys, I knew Mrs. Daly since I was a boy in the early 1970s. She was both kind-hearted and plain spoken. Though I hadn't seen her in decades, she kindly sent my son Malcolm a beautiful blue crocheted baby blanket upon his birth five years ago. When we heard the news last night, we got that blanket back out. According to family legend, when my sister Hilary was born in 1964, my older brother Gopal spent the night at the Dalys. When Mrs. Daly received news of my sister's birth, she told Gopal of his new sister. With Mrs. Daly's rich Scottish accent, he thought his new sister was named "Helenny," instead of Hilary. My condolences to Mr. Daly, my old friend Paul and all the grandchildren.