Mildred Frances Gilbert always prided herself on being a lady. She had the nicest purses, perfectly permed hair, and the cleanest house in Lake Highlands.
She was born on December 27, 1921 in Allen, Texas. She had a younger sister named Florence, who was her best friend her entire life. Florence passed away only 11 days after Millie; I think it was because she had a broken heart. They did everything together, from nightly dinners to games of bridge to attending Sunday services at East Dallas Christian Church. Millie was a devoted member of the Sanders class at the church for many years, and was much loved by all her church friends.
When she wasn't volunteering in the church, she loved her soaps and game shows. Every morning, she would watch the soaps while she did her chores, and every evening, there was Wheel of Fortune. She always took care of her things; she had the same television set from 1983 up until her death thirty-three years later, and her living room furniture set even longer than that. She also had a dachshund called Buddy in her later years, whom she adored and doted on.
Millie's greatest love was her husband, Ralph, whom she married in the spring of 1949. They met on a blind date when Ralph was in the Navy, and were married for 55 years until Ralph's death from Alzheimer's in 2004. Millie and Ralph stood by each other through anything and everything, in sickness and in health. Ralph would just roll his eyes when Millie demanded that the wait staff at Red Lobster sing her the happy birthday song, and Millie would just smile and shake her head when Ralph sang hilariously off-key in church. They were happy through it all, and made every sacrifice they could for their only son, Craig.
Millie was my Nana, and I'll never forget her. She always presented herself as the classiest lady in Dallas. She always made sure the table was set and the floor was spotless, and had a neat set of coffee table books with Renoir paintings and Time's People of the 20th Century. We gathered pecans from the tree in the front yard at Easter, watched Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune on Thursdays, and made a killing in Lake Highlands on Halloween. On the way to church on Sundays when I was small, I always begged her to take me to this rundown old furniture store in east Dallas because the facade was painted purple. She always just laughed and shook her head and said that maybe, one day, we would. We never got to, but I figure since she got to enjoy 94 years of even neater things than the purple building, that doesn't matter all that much.
Rest well, Nana. You led a wonderful life.
She was born on December 27, 1921 in Allen, Texas. She had a younger sister named Florence, who was her best friend her entire life. Florence passed away only 11 days after Millie; I think it was because she had a broken heart. They did everything together, from nightly dinners to games of bridge to attending Sunday services at East Dallas Christian Church. Millie was a devoted member of the Sanders class at the church for many years, and was much loved by all her church friends.
When she wasn't volunteering in the church, she loved her soaps and game shows. Every morning, she would watch the soaps while she did her chores, and every evening, there was Wheel of Fortune. She always took care of her things; she had the same television set from 1983 up until her death thirty-three years later, and her living room furniture set even longer than that. She also had a dachshund called Buddy in her later years, whom she adored and doted on.
Millie's greatest love was her husband, Ralph, whom she married in the spring of 1949. They met on a blind date when Ralph was in the Navy, and were married for 55 years until Ralph's death from Alzheimer's in 2004. Millie and Ralph stood by each other through anything and everything, in sickness and in health. Ralph would just roll his eyes when Millie demanded that the wait staff at Red Lobster sing her the happy birthday song, and Millie would just smile and shake her head when Ralph sang hilariously off-key in church. They were happy through it all, and made every sacrifice they could for their only son, Craig.
Millie was my Nana, and I'll never forget her. She always presented herself as the classiest lady in Dallas. She always made sure the table was set and the floor was spotless, and had a neat set of coffee table books with Renoir paintings and Time's People of the 20th Century. We gathered pecans from the tree in the front yard at Easter, watched Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune on Thursdays, and made a killing in Lake Highlands on Halloween. On the way to church on Sundays when I was small, I always begged her to take me to this rundown old furniture store in east Dallas because the facade was painted purple. She always just laughed and shook her head and said that maybe, one day, we would. We never got to, but I figure since she got to enjoy 94 years of even neater things than the purple building, that doesn't matter all that much.
Rest well, Nana. You led a wonderful life.
Mildred Frances Gilbert always prided herself on being a lady. She had the nicest purses, perfectly permed hair, and the cleanest house in Lake Highlands.
She was born on December 27, 1921 in Allen, Texas. She had a younger sister named Florence, who was her best friend her entire life. Florence passed away only 11 days after Millie; I think it was because she had a broken heart. They did everything together, from nightly dinners to games of bridge to attending Sunday services at East Dallas Christian Church. Millie was a devoted member of the Sanders class at the church for many years, and was much loved by all her church friends.
When she wasn't volunteering in the church, she loved her soaps and game shows. Every morning, she would watch the soaps while she did her chores, and every evening, there was Wheel of Fortune. She always took care of her things; she had the same television set from 1983 up until her death thirty-three years later, and her living room furniture set even longer than that. She also had a dachshund called Buddy in her later years, whom she adored and doted on.
Millie's greatest love was her husband, Ralph, whom she married in the spring of 1949. They met on a blind date when Ralph was in the Navy, and were married for 55 years until Ralph's death from Alzheimer's in 2004. Millie and Ralph stood by each other through anything and everything, in sickness and in health. Ralph would just roll his eyes when Millie demanded that the wait staff at Red Lobster sing her the happy birthday song, and Millie would just smile and shake her head when Ralph sang hilariously off-key in church. They were happy through it all, and made every sacrifice they could for their only son, Craig.
Millie was my Nana, and I'll never forget her. She always presented herself as the classiest lady in Dallas. She always made sure the table was set and the floor was spotless, and had a neat set of coffee table books with Renoir paintings and Time's People of the 20th Century. We gathered pecans from the tree in the front yard at Easter, watched Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune on Thursdays, and made a killing in Lake Highlands on Halloween. On the way to church on Sundays when I was small, I always begged her to take me to this rundown old furniture store in east Dallas because the facade was painted purple. She always just laughed and shook her head and said that maybe, one day, we would. We never got to, but I figure since she got to enjoy 94 years of even neater things than the purple building, that doesn't matter all that much.
Rest well, Nana. You led a wonderful life.
She was born on December 27, 1921 in Allen, Texas. She had a younger sister named Florence, who was her best friend her entire life. Florence passed away only 11 days after Millie; I think it was because she had a broken heart. They did everything together, from nightly dinners to games of bridge to attending Sunday services at East Dallas Christian Church. Millie was a devoted member of the Sanders class at the church for many years, and was much loved by all her church friends.
When she wasn't volunteering in the church, she loved her soaps and game shows. Every morning, she would watch the soaps while she did her chores, and every evening, there was Wheel of Fortune. She always took care of her things; she had the same television set from 1983 up until her death thirty-three years later, and her living room furniture set even longer than that. She also had a dachshund called Buddy in her later years, whom she adored and doted on.
Millie's greatest love was her husband, Ralph, whom she married in the spring of 1949. They met on a blind date when Ralph was in the Navy, and were married for 55 years until Ralph's death from Alzheimer's in 2004. Millie and Ralph stood by each other through anything and everything, in sickness and in health. Ralph would just roll his eyes when Millie demanded that the wait staff at Red Lobster sing her the happy birthday song, and Millie would just smile and shake her head when Ralph sang hilariously off-key in church. They were happy through it all, and made every sacrifice they could for their only son, Craig.
Millie was my Nana, and I'll never forget her. She always presented herself as the classiest lady in Dallas. She always made sure the table was set and the floor was spotless, and had a neat set of coffee table books with Renoir paintings and Time's People of the 20th Century. We gathered pecans from the tree in the front yard at Easter, watched Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune on Thursdays, and made a killing in Lake Highlands on Halloween. On the way to church on Sundays when I was small, I always begged her to take me to this rundown old furniture store in east Dallas because the facade was painted purple. She always just laughed and shook her head and said that maybe, one day, we would. We never got to, but I figure since she got to enjoy 94 years of even neater things than the purple building, that doesn't matter all that much.
Rest well, Nana. You led a wonderful life.
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