Grandpa Miller

Last night my Grandpa Miller passed away. The following was written by my father:

My dad, Boris Miller died Tuesday evening, October 17th.

All who have known him, especially the last few years, called him ‘The Miracle Man’. At 87 years of age, he finally lost his long fight with muscular dystrophy. He battled it as courageously as anyone ever has, and beat it for far more years than most people who have had this affliction. How did he manage to do this?

From conversations with him, family members, friends, and personal observations I believe it was a number of things. First, he had an extraordinary will to live. Many people with less challenges, have given up living. He never did. He never talked about MD, the disease that had him first in leg braces, then adding a cane, a walker, and eventually confining him to a wheelchair.

I believe he took the cards life dealt him, realized he couldn’t throw them back, and made the best of that hand. And, despite the MD cards, he still held a Royal Flush - and won! I never heard him complain about his disability. He accepted the fight, did what he felt he had to do to continue life, and went forward. ‘No big deal’, he would say about it. He also observed that many others had drawn far worse fates, and his battle could have been more challenging. I believe it was this perspective on life that served him so well for so long.

He was exceptionally smart; having graduated from MIT with a degree in Food Technology. Being an avid reader, learning continued throughout his life. Like many men of his era, he served proudly in the European arena in WWII. Also like most veterans who have experienced war, he never talked much about it. It’s important to say here how helpful the VA had been to him throughout his ordeal.

His marriage to my mother, June, who turns 84 this month, lasted 64 years. The longevity of their marriage, and the love they share, is a huge reason he lived as long as he did. Beside myself, he left another son, two daughters, and six grandchildren.

The last three years were extraordinarily tough for him, and my mother. He had spent more time hospitals than anyone should. When EMS people, patient transporters, hospital parking attendants, doctors, and nurses, and ICU personnel know your folks by their first names - they’ve seen them way too often. Although the hospitals, doctors, and all attending to him for so long, did a marvelous job, there’s no place like home, and that’s where he died.

Surrounded by friends and family telling favorite stories about him, he passed away at 7:00. The decision to die at home, like other important ones in his life, he made out of love for his wife and family.

I’m lucky to have had him so long.

- Fred Miller