Helen Sartor

Helen Mary Sartor (née Iantorno) was born in Toronto on May 17, 1926, just before the Great Depression. Her parents, Enrico and Grazia, were immigrants from Calabria, Italy. Enrico worked as a laborer, and Grazia stayed home to raise Helen and Helen’s siblings, Josie and George.

After Helen graduated from grade 10,she left school to earn money for her family — taking a job making gas masks in a General Electric factory, which had been repurposed for the war.

Helen’s singular ambition was to have a large family, but finding a husband during wartime proved difficult. “The pickings were really slim,” she’d say. Helen would often spend weekends dancing with her girlfriends at home or at the Palais Royale on Toronto’s Lakeshore, wondering when she’d find Mr. Right.

At a dance in a church basement one evening, she met Giannino Sartor, a handsome plasterer from Friuli. In 1950, they married, and together, had four children— Janet (Renzo Belluz), Larry (Sarah), Diane (Frank Sgro) and Grace (Claudio Della Mora). Her kids and their spouses, along with her nine grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren, were the centerpiece of Helen’s life. They referred to her as “Nonna Ma,” and she referred to them as her greatest gifts.

As a young mother, Helen kept an open house. There was usually a pot of tomato sauce or soup simmering on the stove, and a pie in the oven for whoever might turn up —siblings, neighbours, the children’s friends. In her 30s, she started a card-playing club, which ran for more than 40 years until Helen was the last living member. Along with Bingo, afternoon tea parties, baking, and crocheting, Helen enjoyed telling jokes and writing poetry — a hobby she picked up after her husband died, in 1986.

In 1991, when she turned 65, she wrote in a poem: “I don’t feel any different, I just thank god I’m alive.” This youthfulness, gratitude, and faith defined Helen. She was as happy traveling to her cottage in Wasaga Beach, as she was touring Italy. A movie was a great night out, but so was a soap
opera on TV. She relished playing and dancing with her grandchildren. She also enjoyed driving — but avoided highways and left turns (opting for the longer route to reach her destination). Though she swore her daily regimen of Nivea face cream kept her skin smooth into her 90s, it was more likely this positive outlook and contentedness that did the trick.

In 2006, just after her 80th birthday, a stroke and heart attack forced Helen to give up her beloved car and move into an old age home — Amica in Vaughan. There, she met new friends, danced, joked, and developed new interests, including painting. “We’re like sorority girls,” she’d say of her friends. “I’m living the college days I missed out on.” She became deeply integrated in Amica’s community, sitting on multiple committees and acting as an ambassador for her fellow residents at board meetings.

Her real passion, though, was people. She seemed to have endless time to meet with family and friends, listen to the life stories of the staff and other residents, and offer the perfect nugget of advice whenever it was needed. Just before Helen died of heart failure, on April 30, 2020, the world entered another Great Depression, this time, because of the Covid-19 pandemic. With her residence on lockdown, Helen couldn’t see her family in the last weeks of her life. But the friends she’d made at Amica kept her company, including her nanny Grace, and several staff members who said she was like a second mom. She will be sorely missed.