Lillian "Flo" Delyea

Lillian "Flo" Delyea age 94, of Boise, ID, passed January 30th, 2026 in her home surrounded by loved ones.

Lillian Florence Pratt was born on June 14th, 1931 in Downey, ID to ranchers John and Emily Pratt. She was the youngest of three children with brothers John and Jack preceding her. She grew up in Southern Idaho in a town called Zenda and later graduated from Meridian High School and the University of Idaho.

A member of the Silent Generation, Lilli was a known rabblerouser, bucking the trends of her time to the delight of herself and others. Her unique approach to life began on the family ranch where she rode Tennessee Walker horses and slept with a hot rock in her bed to keep warm in winter. Her best friend was a boy. Until he was told young boys don't play with girls; regardless of how well they ride horses. She'd begun riding 'Ol Coley at 3. Could shoot a shotgun at age 5. Drove at 10. The dust bowl era was at full stoke. Warm bathwater was scarce and bathing a once-a-week affair done in order of eldest to youngest. By Lil's turn, the water was as cloudy as it was tepid.

She learned to play music. Or learned there was music in her. If she picked up an instrument, she could play it. So competently, in fact, she'd conduct the school band on occasion. The expectation of the day was that she'd learn to cook and clean. "Pfft, I wanted to be out, goofing off!" She'd tell us on reflection.

She chose piano.

Her father's diagnosed brain tumor in 1945 brought the sale of the ranch and a short stint in California before the family landed in Meridian, Idaho. In high school, Lilli was well-liked and popular, becoming Senior Class President on a ticket that stopped just short of promising hijinks. She was a friend to all, sticking up for a girl that would later give birth to her son-in-law. She attended class reunions over the decades and now only four remain.

Life warmed when Lilli boarded a train to the University of Idaho at the behest of her mother-herself a Cornell graduate--to pursue a degree in music. She sang loudly and played piano to her Gamma Phi Beta sorority sisters. She told stories about ranch life and laughed in her cackling way. She once dressed disguised as a man and was admitted into the then men-only Corner Club saloon. No one was going to tell her she couldn't do something or be somewhere. She defended her independence fiercely. But also.

Richard Leo Delyea.

"Dick" to his friends and loved ones. There he was: serving Lil and her sisterhood one evening as a hired kitchen hand. All silly and carefree. She laughed. That laugh! He wouldn't be deterred. He asked to walk her the 100 steps home and when they arrived, he began tinkling on the house piano. And that evening, draped over the baby grand, she whispered to herself, "that's my man."

Big love. A profound union.

The kind you don't replace.

They wed June 11, 1953. Lilli kept house and taught music as Dick worked selling Singer sewing machines and finished his degree in Civil Engineering. Upon graduating, he was hired quickly by the Army Corp of Engineers and tasked with inspecting hydroelectric dams. The pair settled in Walla Walla, WA and Lil's rapidly protruding belly produced her first son, Michael, who tragically passed in childbirth. In the aftermath she found relief in grief workshops in her 50's. This loss would cling to Lil, not fully understanding how it affected her for close to three decades.

She persisted through the sorrow and series of bouncing babies: Richard "Rick", David, Lorraine, Susan, and Jeanine followed, bringing the Delyea clan to a total of seven, the family then at the intersection of civilization and the mighty Columbia in Kennewick, WA. In '63, the pair bought a lakefront property alongside Lil's brother-in-law and war-hero Bill (and his wife Bea) in Dick's hometown of Coeur d' Alene, ID. Plans were developed. A labor of love was born that would produce a legacy that persists today known colloquially as "The Cabin."

By 1969, Lil and family resided in Maryland; a result of Dick's burgeoning career. Lilli patiently taught piano to comers of all-ages and Dick tinkered with some of the earliest commercial computers. She pushed their kids to be people of the world, attending inauguration events and spending free-time at museums and historical sites. She made all their clothes by hand.

Lil and Dick reserved time off for annual pilgrimages to Coeur d' Alene for work on the cabin. Five kids, two dogs, and a station wagon making the 2,465 mile journey when the interstate speed limits were still 55. Waiting for them on the other side: over 20 cousins and associated uncles, aunts, and grandparents. The ground shook with their excited energy. Huddled in groups on the wooded grounds, they'd always hear Lil's cackle before they saw her.

It was the arrival of joy.

And then in the autumn of 1975, the joy was drained from every pore.

The love of Lil's life–what would remain her one big love–tragically passed. Heart attack. Her soul felt suffocated. In an instant it was Lil and her five children, the two dogs, and a station wagon. She would speak daily of Dick for the next 50 years.

She persisted again. She dove into work, becoming a Maryland-area real estate agent before moving back west in 1977 to be closer to loved ones. Now based in Boise, Lil went into banking, her sharp wit and lively nature driving her to a position with an investment firm. She continued to defy expectation in her grief, challenging herself, exploring the depths of what she was made of. She co-founded an all-ladies investment consortium and was early to investments in Apple, Harley Davidson, and Google.

She bought a business and employed family members setting up tradeshows. Even her clothing changed. A hot pink jacket brought smiles to gawking strangers. Big hats, outrageous glasses, loud accessories. Her flamboyance pulled her from the darkness that could have swallowed her whole. The radiance of her soul peeked through the pastels of her favorite sweater.

Around this time, Lilli did what likely few from Downey, Idaho do: she saw the world. As a girl, 'Ol Coley took her to the outer reaches of her small world. Helping her to find its margins; offer those first bites of freedom. She never lost the urge to push past the familiar. Hong Kong, Japan, Australia. She traveled to Spain at 85 years old. She'd dance the nights away, her Spanish peers bemused as they rested on their canes.

By 1990, at roughly 60, she found the work that gave her life meaning. Massage therapy and its tributaries gripped her at the intersection of the mental, physical, and spiritual. She piled up books and studied human anatomy with the discipline of a med student. She researched energy. How it flows. Chakras. She found a new perspective on the world through fields we can't see but that flow through us all.

She could tell you where you hurt before you told her.

She made the unseen, seen. Pushing, pulling, sifting through pain like it was dough in her hands. She had the grip strength of someone 30 years her junior.

Her business, Healing Touch, was born. Most of her patients were younger than her, and less able-bodied. A handful of those that had gone through chemotherapy claimed she saved their lives. She helped people heal faster. Walk again. Regain use of their limbs.

She was always able to absorb pain.

Now she was the conduit it passed through. And with it, her own.

She only seemed to grow stronger. She practiced and maintained clients to her 85th year. For years Lilli treated the ill-effects of a poor diet and sedentary lifestyle. That was never going to be her. She kept dogs–first Ginger, then Tootsie–to keep her moving. Movement was health.

This is the Lil her grandchildren and great-grandchildren were introduced to. A healer. With a pinch of Eastern and New Age Philosophies, she taught them to trust their instincts and lean into things they didn't understand. Remain curious and open to unfolding possibilities. Witness the miracles of life. She showed them a life is never complete.

We evolve. She. Evolved.

Lilli Flo Delyea grew big.

Knowing it's much easier to stay small.

At 94, an early adopter of technology, she used Facebook. She believed, in her own radiant way, that Status Updates were mandatory upon login. And as such, Lil always kept her family unusually attuned to who visited, how she was feeling, or how she hoped we felt.

Her last post, dated June 11th, 2025 read:

HELLO AGAIN! fINALLY MADE IT BACK ON HERE! hOPE EVERYONE IS WELL AND ENJOYING LIFE!

She adored her family and remained ever-grateful they kept an active role in her twilight years. A list that included great-grandchildren, grandchildren, her children, nieces, nephews, and friends. A visit to Lil guaranteed a follow-up call the next day in effusive thanks.

And to the very end, she would greet you in her very Lilli way: folksy wit, the ensuing self-satisfied chuckle, and an iron grip on your hand. She promised shortly before her death to return as a bumblebee.

Now she's there.

Do you see her?

A young girl riding 'Ol Coley through golden fields with the wind in her hair. A young woman, leaned in a doorway, head tilted, admiring Dick as he tinkles away on the piano. Cradling Michael again, cooing as he reaches for her face. She grips the shoulders of her brothers tightly and releases. Her dogs curl up at her feet.

She bellows her cackling Lilli laugh and it rings through the halls, bringing a knowing smile to all who knew her.

She is a free spirit.

She is ours.

And we will never forget her.

We love you, Lilli Flo.

Lilli is survived by her children: Rick Delyea (Liz), David Delyea (Lorna), Lori Fascilla (Joe), Susie Delyea, Jeanine Delyea, Her grandchildren, Alex Fascilla (Emily), Megan Delyea (Adam), Emily Fascilla (Nikos), Jack Delyea, Tony Delyea (Julie), Annie Fascilla Mitchell (Zach), Susan Delyea, David Delyea, Mike Delyea, Kody Sturgis and great grandchildren, Tyana Seeger, Kadence Smith, Darius Delyea, Sterling and London Sturgis, and Eleanor Olive. She was preceded in death by her parents John and Emily Pratt, brothers, Jack Pratt, and Dick (Jo) Pratt, son Michael Delyea, and love of her life and husband, Richard Delyea.

A Celebration of Life will be held on May 2, 2026 at 11:00 am at Summers Funeral Home, 3629 E Ustick Rd., Meridian, ID 83646. Please dress to honor Lilli's flamboyant nature in your favorite purple, turquoise, pink, red or an ugly Christmas sweater. She always wore crazy glasses and hats too, and you can too in remembrance of a woman who walked into every room confident that her outfit would be the best. Her favorite poem was, When I get old I will wear purple with a red hat that doesn't go and doesn't suit me.

In lieu of flowers the family asks that you donate to the Giraffe Laugh Early Learning Centers

Lilli Flo Delyea Children's Memorial Fund

in honor of her love of children and a bright future for everyone she met on planet earth.