When I was in junior high, my grandfather married a lady named Millie.
 |
| My grandfather and Millie in Spain, 1992 (notice how she decorated the cast she is wearing- classic Millie) |
Millie was outrageously unique and definitely her own person. She wore bold, bright colors, big puffy skirts, had long painted nails, and never wore fewer than fifteen pieces of jewelry- at least six of them were always covered in diamonds.
Every wall in Millie’s house was filled with mementos from her life. She had every Princess Diana plate QVC ever sold. Millie had traveled all over the world and had sculptures carved from giant pieces of ivory, art from street vendors, and knick knacks from tiny shops hidden in mountain villages. Millie was a collector, and her walls were covered with her lovely things, from the ceiling to the floor. Honestly, you would have had to see it to believe it.
Millie had opinions and wasn’t afraid to share them. In junior high she corrected me for tucking my hair behind my ears, insisting they would stick out “like car doors” if I continued. When I was in high school she told me I should never wear red unless it was tomato red, because every girl with my coloring looks amazing in tomato red. I had dark lowlights put in my hair in college and she fussed at me, saying those black streaks were awful.
Millie gave me sex advice at a party before my wedding, then made Morgan open a gift of lingerie in front of a crowd. It was probably the most awkward and most awesome moment of my life, and is one of my favorite wedding memories.
In recent years, Millie decided that I needed some of my grandfather’s things. At various times I received multiple shipments of thirteen to twenty boxes full of the most random assortment of items. The suit my grandfather was married in, the first jewelry he ever gave her, their old VHS player and all their VHS recordings (boxes and boxes and boxes) from local TV, photo albums with picture after picture of their trips around the world, all were sent to me.
I often marveled at the fortune Millie must have spent sending me those things. Today, as I process the news that she passed away this summer without our family being notified, I am incredibly grateful for every old cloth napkin and crocheted tablecloth I have of hers.
Dear Millie, thank you for being a part of our family. Thank you for knowing that one day I would need things to remind me of the times we shared. Thank you for sharing your thillingly unique life with me. Most of all, thank you for loving me like your own granddaughter. I know you didn’t have to do that, and that makes the love even more precious.
I love you and will miss you. See you soon.
