It’s been rough go the last five years or so. So
She was a tough woman, in a demure sort of way. At her peak,
she was five foot two and 118 pounds. An introvert by nature, she always told
me not to worry about making her into a social being, because she rather
enjoyed her own company. She admits that she lurked in the shadow to her older
sister Dorothy, far more extroverted and outgoing. But when Dorothy died in 1972
and left young sons, it was Millie who stepped up to the plate and served as
the motherly figure.
While introverted, she wasn’t necessarily as passive as one
might think. She used to tell me that some folks would call her “Mulie,”
meaning “Stubborn as a mule.” I know that first-hand. A few years ago we
attempted to remove the throw rugs from her apartment because they were a trip
hazard. We put them in her closet. She obviously wasn’t hip to that, because the
next time we visited the rugs were back on her floor. (Lesson learned!)
So minus the past five years, let me tell you about the Millie
I knew.
When I first met my husband Ed, he talked incessantly about
his Aunt Millie. I knew immediately that she was a woman I wanted to meet. A couple
of months after we started dating, we went Christmas shopping and he wanted to
buy her a nice dress. He didn’t know what size she wore. So he called her on a
pay phone (no cell phones at that time) and told her that he was shopping for a
dress for me. So being that she had not yet met me, he told her that I was about
her size (way more than a white lie), and asked her what size she was (size 8).
Anyway, he purchased a beautiful dress for her that day (which, by the way, I
chose). While most of her clothes have been given to Goodwill, I couldn’t bear
to part with that one yet.
When I finally did meet Millie, I found her to be quite the
vivacious woman. You would think she was quiet and demure, but it only took a
little time of getting to know her when she would talk your ear off. I was struck
by the fact that she intensely valued family. While she was widowed very young
and never had children of her own, her nieces and nephews meant the world to her.
I can’t relay the stories of them all, but I can share those
of my own husband. My husband Ed has shared stories of Millies’s compassion and
generosity. Having lost his mother (Millie’s sister) in 1972, he speaks highly
of how Millie stepped up to the plate to step into the mother role.
As to my own recollections, they are many.
When Ed and I got married, it was Millie who lit the unity candle
on behalf of his side of the family and stood with his father for the family
pictures.
When my first son Clay was born, I remember how she came to
my house the day after I came home from the hospital. She held my baby boy. And
held him. And held him. I pretty much had to coax her to give him back. Up to
that point she had never changed a diaper. Starting with Clay, and then with
Luke and Sam, she became a pro.
If you would have asked her, she would have told you she was
their grandmother. For the most part, she was. And like most grandmothers, she
totally spoiled them. When I was pregnant with Clay, she was adamant about the
fact that I needed a good rocking chair to rock the baby in. She bought me the
most expensive rocking chair in the store, which I still have. She bought them
toys, of course, and the occasional savings bond.
A child of the depression, she would come for dinner and
want to save the tiniest teaspoon of peas (which drove me crazy). Not to say
she didn’t have her quirks. Don’t we all?
Despite the quirks, I loved her. I loved her because she
loved my husband and my children so much. And I’m guessing she might have loved
me too.
I know she wasn’t happy when we transitioned her to assisted
living. And I was heartbroken when we moved her into nursing home care (though I
have to say we were completely satisfied with the nursing home we chose). But I
know the Millie of 10 or 15 years ago would have told us to do what we needed to
do that was in her best interests. I hope we did her right.
We so love you Millie. And we so rejoice because we know
that tonight you are in a better place. Enjoy the reunion with our loved ones
in the hereafter. Know that we will always love you and look forward to when we
can join you in the heavenly reward. And rest in peace, my dear. You are
forever loved.