TILSLEY, James E. Tilsley

Sometimes affectionately called “Indiana Dad” for his adventurous globe trotting spirit, passed away at the age of 88. Predeceased by his cherished wife, Susan, he leaves behind his daughters, Cynthia (Steven Unwin) and Katherine (Patrick Kenny), and his granddaughters Elizabeth, Katharine, and Alexandra — each carrying forward a different part of the legacy he built through knowledge, integrity, and a life lived with purpose.

Born at home in Nova Scotia, James spent his early years on the East Coast before his career as a Professional Engineer took him across the world. Before putting down roots, James and his wife Susan spent some time abroad during his international geological assignments, living in exotic places such as Morocco and Brazil. Susan was up for the adventures, and he loved to recount stories of their experiences. When they eventually settled in Aurora, at “number 5,” as he fondly called their home, it became the base from which to raise his children and to build his own successful geological consulting company. Susan kept the business organized and steady while he immersed himself in the work he loved, whether it meant trekking across tundra, navigating peat bogs, or exploring remote corners of the world.

The greatest loss of his life was the passing of his beloved Susan in 2017. His grief was profound, however honouring her became another point of connection for the family — the shared comments of “oh, Mum would have loved this” or “she would not have been a fan of that” kept her presence close. After Susan’s passing, James moved to Mono in 2020 to live next to Cynthia and her family — a decision he often joked was made so they could keep him “properly supervised.”

James was endlessly curious, happiest when immersed in deep, technical research. He had a remarkable ability to absorb and retain knowledge, becoming an “encyclopedia” in his own right — a trait he shared with Susan and with his brother in law, Arthur. He never really retired, and he always had a project or a theory going. He never hesitated to share his views on carbon taxes, government bureaucracy, and the inaccuracies he saw in modern climate change theory with anyone. (And this means anyone!) He was active, energetic, and the family often remarked how he could work every one of us under the table even in his mid 80’s!

James was a multi faceted, complex, and deeply loving father. Sometimes feisty, often opinionated, and always there for us, he felt a profound responsibility to shape and guide his daughters — and later his granddaughters — whether they wanted the guidance or not. But beneath that intensity was unwavering devotion. He cherished the memories of raising his daughters, especially the years spent riding horses together, stories he retold with unmistakable pride.

He took great interest in the accomplishments of his daughters, delighted by the professional paths both his daughters forged, even if he teased them for being “so very busy.” He was so proud of Cynthia’s voracious love of learning and of all of the cutting-edge projects she works on. He and Kate connected over business, gardening, and Sunday afternoon Scrabble matches.

At the Mono house he was a devoted gardener with a soft spot for any plant that showed the slightest will to live. He could never bring himself to throw one away, which led to hundreds of dahlias that he painstakingly planted each spring, dug up each fall, and stored over the winter. The result was a spectacular hedge of colour surrounding his garden. His sunflowers were legendary — often reaching 10 to 12 feet — and in true James fashion, if growing a few was good, growing a few hundred was better. His garden was a living expression of his delight of the natural world.

A masterful baker, he was known for his breads and the most wonderful pies. Visitors to the house were usually greeted with the amazing smell of fresh baked bread. On the weekend before he passed, he baked a pear pie with fruit from his own trees. He and Katherine often texted back and forth critiquing their culinary creations, and both agreed this one was the best pie yet. His granddaughter Alexandra shared a special connection with him through cooking, often visiting “Granddaddy” to bake cookies under his tutelage.

He leaves behind a legacy of curiosity, determination, and a lifetime of knowledge. His family will miss him deeply — the quiet echo of “I’ll just ask Dad” a testament to how instinctively we all turned to him, and how profoundly his absence will be felt.

Fois shìorraidh dhut, athair ghràdhach (eternal rest to you, beloved father).

A private celebration of life will be held in the spring. The family welcomes comments, memories, and reflections on the funeral home’s website, where they will be deeply appreciated.