Helen Gardiner, a visionary cultural philanthropist and a friend to many of us in IWF, died on July 22 at the family farm in Caledon East where she once hosted the Toronto Chapter for an unforgettable day. Just turned 70, she had hoped to spend her birthday in Tuscany with friends and family, but was stricken with pancreatic cancer three months ago.

She leaves a unique gift to Canada: the Gardiner Museum of Ceramic Art, which she co-founded with her husband, George R. Gardiner, in 1984 to house the pair's glorious collection, and brilliantly championed after his death. Helen led the $17 million campaign that culminated in the dramatic re-visioning and reconstruction of the Museum in 2006.

The public Helen, adventurous and unfailingly generous, received the Order of Canada in 2007. IWFers were privileged to know the private Helen. Here, one friend, Pauline Couture, recalls the personal gifts we will miss:

The first time I met Helen Gardiner's voice, we had fallen into step together on the street in Niagara-on-the-Lake, between Bluma Appel's house and the Royal George Theatre--part of a privileged group of 17 IWF Toronto Chapter members on a Saturday excursion three years ago.

I came to the encounter with no preconceptions: she just showed up in my life, a beautiful smiling woman with a raspy voice and a huge heart.

We became instant friends, laughing and at ease together, before I knew anything about her beyond the startling voice and the beautiful smile. Over the next few months, I became aware of her substantial accomplishments, including her role as co-founder and capital campaign chair at the Gardiner Museum, the National Ballet School, Honorary Colonel and Member of the Order of Canada, as well as her many philanthropic and mentoring contributions.

The following summer, a group of us made our way to Gardiner Farms and encountered her warm hospitality. She fed us, watered us and introduced us to the veterinarians and horticulturalists who oversaw the breeding and training operation, with its 400 thoroughbred horses, and the ethereal gardens that constituted her heavenly environment.

She never forgot her working-class Kirkland Lake roots, but this in no way limited her social, cross-cultural and economic mobility. She was comfortable with--and beloved by-- all who knew her, from the Royal family to the staff mucking out her stables, and her ever-present Westies, Angus and Airdrie. She was modest but strong, courageous and funny; aware of the extraordinary hand that life had dealt her, yet audacious and innovative in making the most of it; she was open-hearted and generous in sharing her good fortune, particularly with family (especially her daughter Lindy and her mother, Eleanor) and friends. She had innately exquisite taste.

Her raspy voice was the result of nine years of acute stress, managing her late husband's terminal illness. When my own husband was diagnosed with prostate cancer early in 2008, she took me to the York Club for a three-hour dinner, during which she assured me of her total support. In the following weeks, when I did not hear from her, I briefly wondered why. It was so unlike her not to call, under the circumstances.

Just as my husband was making a total recovery, I learned the reason for Helen's silence: she had been diagnosed with virulent, inoperable pancreatic cancer. She was gone within a scant three months.

Realizing that travel commitments would prevent me from seeing her before the end, I looked for elements of her life that I had not had the privilege to experience in our short but intensely lovely friendship. I was moved to find a short film clip of a much younger Helen with her husband, telling CBC Television about their decision to create the Gardiner Museum. Her voice was light and clear as a bell.