Barbara Helen Miller
Born: October 4, 1938
Died: September 26, 2021
On September 26, 2021, the 8 Miller children surrounded our mother, Barbara “Barb” Helen Miller, as she soared into heaven. Just shy of her 83rd birthday, she was an angel-on-earth and the center of gravity for countless people – her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, her siblings, our lifelong Surrey Hill neighborhood, the St. Charles community, her beloved church family at Resurrection Catholic Church, and the bereaved and searching hearts that she ministered to through her love and action. Her absence leaves a profound void in our hearts.
Her life of extraordinary service contends that we honor her – expressing the legacy of love she provided for all of us. She would encourage us even now, as she always did, to seek lives where we demonstrate God’s workmanship, and to do the good works for which we are prepared to do (Ep: 2:10).
Our Mom was proud of her roots and keeping history alive. She journaled for an astonishing 60 years, leaving a remarkable map of her life and its meaning for her. The eldest of 6 children, Barbara was born on October 4th, 1938, to first-generation immigrants, her beautiful and kind Polish mother, Helen Kazemek and her boisterous Lithuanian father, Frank Kazemek.
She grew up in Bridgeport, a south-side Chicago neighborhood, that was largely comprised of blue-collar immigrants from Poland, Lithuania, and Ireland. Mom proudly told the tale of undeniable connection between her parents, who despite their cultural differences and animosity of the time, had been brought together. “Babs,” as she was known to her nuclear family and friends, graduated from St. Bridget’s School, the Irish parish, where she was forbidden to speak the otherwise mandatory Polish they had in other schools. It was here that Mom met some of her best lifelong friends who loved her beyond measure through her entire life.
Summer nights in Bridgeport were punctuated by large families sitting on their porches to avoid the heat in their non-air-conditioned apartments. She reminisced of the single room with bunk beds she shared with her siblings, which she fondly re-created later with her own 8 children.
This sense of togetherness was what she cultivated her whole life long, wherever she was. In our neighborhood, for over 50 years, you could find Mom in our house or sitting on our porch. No matter where in the world her children traversed, she was there waiting for us, waiting intently, our mother, with her arms open wide. Sometimes hurting and worrying. Always forgiving. Always welcoming. Always protecting. As anyone can attest, our Mom built a household that any neighbor or friend could walk into. They could help themselves and they were welcomed. Open door was her policy. Her heart was like that. She invited people together and painted a landscape of friendship.
Mom was a living miracle. In 1952, polio gripped her body. She had vivid memories of the year-long journey where she remained isolated in the Iron Lung, a tank respirator that gave her body a chance to recover. Despite the pervading fear and loneliness, the complete strike on her body, and her emblematic tracheotomy scar which was a forever reminder of her victory over death – she survived. She endured, to give birth to 8 children, who in turn created 22 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren (to date).
Mom graduated from the St Anne’s School with her BA in Nursing in 1960. She continued with her nursing work at Loyola University, and it was here, she met our father, Walter C. Miller M.D. She described him as a “likable but arrogant student” who she taught in her Pediatric and OBGN class. As her story went – his confidence, intelligence, likeability, and persistence won her over. She’d become a lifelong dedicated advocate for his professional growth, a forgiving and committed wife, and a selfless mother to their 8 children. Their journey brought them to New York, Aberdeen, South Dakota, Joliet, IL, and finally to St. Charles, IL in 1968, where they planted their roots for our Dad to practice as a life-long community pediatrician.
And what a mother she became. How she never stopped caring for and loving us. Our Mom was the definition of resiliency. She was constantly spinning her plates to raise 8 children who spanned 11 years. Mornings were punctuated with humble toast and cereal breakfast ready at the table, Paul Harvey blasting on 720 WGN Radio wishing us a “good day,” a line-up of brown bag lunches, labeled in a row for her 8 “M-named” kids (who she often muddled and confused during punishment, luckily for us). She was shepherding us constantly: to learn, grow, mistake, forgive, hurt, heal, and more. In these pre-cell phone and Internet days, she filled our days with adventure, wonder, and activity with soccer, baseball, softball, theater, piano, choir, CCD, neighborhood park adventures, sledding, bike riding, creative arts, and more. We played together. Often and always. As she said, “your family is always #1.” She meant it.
Mom spent long days and nights with her children through flus, school days, procedures, piloting us to thousands of to-and-fros to promote our friendship, athletics, extracurricular activities, and personal growth. She celebrated our victories. She lifted our young broken hearts. She held our hands through nightmares, changed our pee-soaked beds. She served on boards, committees, car wash crews, writing teams and whatever role she could to show her support. Her undeniable leadership and service came alive in everything. She ceaselessly served us with her love. And every night while growing up, no matter where we were, we’d return to her nest, her dispersed children, gathered in rhythm with her and Dad at the beautiful wooden table to break bread and to give thanks. No matter where we roamed and what activities we had planned, dinner was together. Friends were always welcome. But together.
Every summer, she packed up our snack bags bursting with Mad Libs, Easy Cheese, Twizzlers, Pringles, Juicy Fruit and more. She’d awaken us from our dreams at the dark before dawn and marshal the 10 of us into the family Suburban to begin a 2-day journey to the ocean at our lifelong family condo in New Smyrna Beach, FL. This was our place to laugh together, swim, fight, play, and build memories that are etched into our very bones. She’d prop us on her legs in the pool – and that image is who she was ‘ our buoyancy. Mom was our organizer, our curator, our peacemaker, our empathizer, our director, our mentor, our leader.
We’d end up hurting and challenging her as selfish, ornery, growing teenagers. And yet she’d loved us through her own valleys. She’d steer us back to love again. She’d encouraged us to look inside and work toward a better version of ourselves. She gave tough love when needed. She wanted us to keep growing. She was our unconditional center. She imparted a final shared gift to each of us – an irrefutable “Mom’s Tale,” which was a testament to her avid love for writing. Wrapped neatly in a box in her closet, a journal for EACH of her 8 kids that she penned every year on our birthdays, the New Year, her grandchildren’s births, including reflections on historical world events that changed her perspective and our lives. She wanted us to know the great insights of her journey as our Mom, intertwined with each of her unique children.
Eventually, Mom’s flock flew away to start new journeys, jobs, marriages, and families. She made even more room in her boundless heart for those we loved. She was constantly generous with those we held dearest. She always made the time to write thank you and to say I love you.
Mom was infamous for her specialty “Barb’s birthday and anniversary cards” – photo collages created by new-found technology which were punctuated by a thousand precious notes of her gratitude. In-laws and grandchildren awaited her annual cards and the themed family Christmas calendar that was her pride and celebration of our yearly memories together. Her 2021 edition was anxiously awaited by us, an ode to my Dad’s recent passing: “Thanks for the Memories.”
With more time and space for herself, our Mom flourished onward. She became an instrument of love and ministry for those who needed her: the forgotten, the mourning, the hungry, the seeking. She was their servant, their hope, their mentor, and their light. She wrote that her mantra for life was Matthew 25: “For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home.” She lived by demonstrating what is meant to BE the hands and feet of Jesus, showing what this looks and feels like through her faith, trust, and action.
She revered her church community Resurrection Catholic Church. This was her other home and the other family that completed her. She contributed in every way she could for nearly 50 years as a parishioner, teacher, and staff member: directing Christian initiation for adults; leading adult faith formation to help people mature on their faith journey; guiding a program for Catholics returning to the church; creating an intergenerational faith formation program; leading Bible study groups up until the days before she left our earthy world. Most importantly, Mom was a mentor to so many parishioners and friends. She taught and challenged them to consider what it meant to serve through humility, forgiveness, and sacrifice. These voyages were her delight.
How our Mom glowed as a regular Sunday lector. Her reading place at the church lectern brought her to life. She was a true orator. She loved reading the words of the Bible because she believed and lived them. She’d glow in her place of comfort (and frequently joked on her way home how women should have the right to be Deacons as well! She did have 5 strong daughters to guide.)
Nowhere did her compassion shine than through her pastoral care ministry, co-laboring with Christ to love, serve, and heal the broken, hurting, and hopeless of this world. For many years, she tended to the elders at the assisted living Pine View Nursing home in St. Charles, giving them skilled care, dignity, and assistance. Later in life, she regularly comforted the elderly at Woodglen Nursing Center and the Hunt Club, leading Bible discussions, bringing Sunday bulletins, and delivering communion. When COVID-19 began (and Mom beat that also, another survivor miracle), her greatest worry was that these senior residents would be left alone. Not surprisingly, she very much-loved Pope Francis, who she felt “walked along the way of God’s mercy and tenderness.”
Final “Babs” tidbits she’d want us to impart. She was a southside White Sox fan and celebrated joyfully when they claimed the World Series in 2005 after an 88-year drought. She was an avid fan of, no…not “Da Bears,” but the arch enemy Green Bay Packers and her favorite contemporary quarterback, Aaron Rodgers. Arby’s was declared by her as “the best chocolate shake in the world.” She proudly won the national Latin language contest in 11th and 12th grade and lovingly challenged her grandchildren to learn Latin, which she considered the ancestral language. Her advice for life? As written by her own lefty hand: 1) Be faithful to your God. 2) Remember that LOVE is more important than money, fame, and power. 3) Be joyful and positive. 4) Learn to forgive – this is different than forgetting. 5) Remember – life is goodness, truth, and beauty. Embrace it! 6) Your family is always your #1. 7) Nothing belongs to you. Take care and share what you have.
Thanks for the memories, Mom.
Barbara Miller, our Mom, was preceded in death by her husband, Walter C. Miller, M.D., her mother and father, Helen Jospehine Kazemek and Frank Benedict Kazemek, and her brothers, Francis Kazemek and Michael Kazemek. She leaves behind many survivors who loved her deeply, including: her 8 children and their spouses – son Mark Miller and Stacey (Graham) Miller, daughter Monika Miller-Neumaier and Michael Neumaier, son Dr. Mike Miller and Wendy Hickman-Miller, daughter Mary (Miller) Rasmussen and Bruce Rasmussen, daughter Mindy Miller-Herman and Jevon Herman, son Dr. Marty Miller and Elizabeth (Bartlett) Miller, daughter Maggie Miller and Hector Dominguez, and daughter Marci (Miller) Jobson and Paul Jobson. Her 22 grandchildren and 6 great-grandchildren will carry on her compassionate work in the world. She will be missed by her siblings and their spouses: Ed and Kris Kazemek, Wally Kazemek (and nephew Jesse Kazemek), Kathleen Kazemek, sister-in-law Cheryl Kazemek (and niece Jennifer Kazemek), and sister-in-law Lorie Miller (and niece Cindy Osland).
Per her wishes, the family will host a Mass on Saturday, December 18, 2021, at 10am, immediately followed by a Celebration of Life at Resurrection Catholic Church located at 30W350 Army Trail Road, Wayne IL 60184. Please mark your calendars and join us for laughs, tears, and remembrances.
Born: October 4, 1938
Died: September 26, 2021
On September 26, 2021, the 8 Miller children surrounded our mother, Barbara “Barb” Helen Miller, as she soared into heaven. Just shy of her 83rd birthday, she was an angel-on-earth and the center of gravity for countless people – her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, her siblings, our lifelong Surrey Hill neighborhood, the St. Charles community, her beloved church family at Resurrection Catholic Church, and the bereaved and searching hearts that she ministered to through her love and action. Her absence leaves a profound void in our hearts.
Her life of extraordinary service contends that we honor her – expressing the legacy of love she provided for all of us. She would encourage us even now, as she always did, to seek lives where we demonstrate God’s workmanship, and to do the good works for which we are prepared to do (Ep: 2:10).
Our Mom was proud of her roots and keeping history alive. She journaled for an astonishing 60 years, leaving a remarkable map of her life and its meaning for her. The eldest of 6 children, Barbara was born on October 4th, 1938, to first-generation immigrants, her beautiful and kind Polish mother, Helen Kazemek and her boisterous Lithuanian father, Frank Kazemek.
She grew up in Bridgeport, a south-side Chicago neighborhood, that was largely comprised of blue-collar immigrants from Poland, Lithuania, and Ireland. Mom proudly told the tale of undeniable connection between her parents, who despite their cultural differences and animosity of the time, had been brought together. “Babs,” as she was known to her nuclear family and friends, graduated from St. Bridget’s School, the Irish parish, where she was forbidden to speak the otherwise mandatory Polish they had in other schools. It was here that Mom met some of her best lifelong friends who loved her beyond measure through her entire life.
Summer nights in Bridgeport were punctuated by large families sitting on their porches to avoid the heat in their non-air-conditioned apartments. She reminisced of the single room with bunk beds she shared with her siblings, which she fondly re-created later with her own 8 children.
This sense of togetherness was what she cultivated her whole life long, wherever she was. In our neighborhood, for over 50 years, you could find Mom in our house or sitting on our porch. No matter where in the world her children traversed, she was there waiting for us, waiting intently, our mother, with her arms open wide. Sometimes hurting and worrying. Always forgiving. Always welcoming. Always protecting. As anyone can attest, our Mom built a household that any neighbor or friend could walk into. They could help themselves and they were welcomed. Open door was her policy. Her heart was like that. She invited people together and painted a landscape of friendship.
Mom was a living miracle. In 1952, polio gripped her body. She had vivid memories of the year-long journey where she remained isolated in the Iron Lung, a tank respirator that gave her body a chance to recover. Despite the pervading fear and loneliness, the complete strike on her body, and her emblematic tracheotomy scar which was a forever reminder of her victory over death – she survived. She endured, to give birth to 8 children, who in turn created 22 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren (to date).
Mom graduated from the St Anne’s School with her BA in Nursing in 1960. She continued with her nursing work at Loyola University, and it was here, she met our father, Walter C. Miller M.D. She described him as a “likable but arrogant student” who she taught in her Pediatric and OBGN class. As her story went – his confidence, intelligence, likeability, and persistence won her over. She’d become a lifelong dedicated advocate for his professional growth, a forgiving and committed wife, and a selfless mother to their 8 children. Their journey brought them to New York, Aberdeen, South Dakota, Joliet, IL, and finally to St. Charles, IL in 1968, where they planted their roots for our Dad to practice as a life-long community pediatrician.
And what a mother she became. How she never stopped caring for and loving us. Our Mom was the definition of resiliency. She was constantly spinning her plates to raise 8 children who spanned 11 years. Mornings were punctuated with humble toast and cereal breakfast ready at the table, Paul Harvey blasting on 720 WGN Radio wishing us a “good day,” a line-up of brown bag lunches, labeled in a row for her 8 “M-named” kids (who she often muddled and confused during punishment, luckily for us). She was shepherding us constantly: to learn, grow, mistake, forgive, hurt, heal, and more. In these pre-cell phone and Internet days, she filled our days with adventure, wonder, and activity with soccer, baseball, softball, theater, piano, choir, CCD, neighborhood park adventures, sledding, bike riding, creative arts, and more. We played together. Often and always. As she said, “your family is always #1.” She meant it.
Mom spent long days and nights with her children through flus, school days, procedures, piloting us to thousands of to-and-fros to promote our friendship, athletics, extracurricular activities, and personal growth. She celebrated our victories. She lifted our young broken hearts. She held our hands through nightmares, changed our pee-soaked beds. She served on boards, committees, car wash crews, writing teams and whatever role she could to show her support. Her undeniable leadership and service came alive in everything. She ceaselessly served us with her love. And every night while growing up, no matter where we were, we’d return to her nest, her dispersed children, gathered in rhythm with her and Dad at the beautiful wooden table to break bread and to give thanks. No matter where we roamed and what activities we had planned, dinner was together. Friends were always welcome. But together.
Every summer, she packed up our snack bags bursting with Mad Libs, Easy Cheese, Twizzlers, Pringles, Juicy Fruit and more. She’d awaken us from our dreams at the dark before dawn and marshal the 10 of us into the family Suburban to begin a 2-day journey to the ocean at our lifelong family condo in New Smyrna Beach, FL. This was our place to laugh together, swim, fight, play, and build memories that are etched into our very bones. She’d prop us on her legs in the pool – and that image is who she was ‘ our buoyancy. Mom was our organizer, our curator, our peacemaker, our empathizer, our director, our mentor, our leader.
We’d end up hurting and challenging her as selfish, ornery, growing teenagers. And yet she’d loved us through her own valleys. She’d steer us back to love again. She’d encouraged us to look inside and work toward a better version of ourselves. She gave tough love when needed. She wanted us to keep growing. She was our unconditional center. She imparted a final shared gift to each of us – an irrefutable “Mom’s Tale,” which was a testament to her avid love for writing. Wrapped neatly in a box in her closet, a journal for EACH of her 8 kids that she penned every year on our birthdays, the New Year, her grandchildren’s births, including reflections on historical world events that changed her perspective and our lives. She wanted us to know the great insights of her journey as our Mom, intertwined with each of her unique children.
Eventually, Mom’s flock flew away to start new journeys, jobs, marriages, and families. She made even more room in her boundless heart for those we loved. She was constantly generous with those we held dearest. She always made the time to write thank you and to say I love you.
Mom was infamous for her specialty “Barb’s birthday and anniversary cards” – photo collages created by new-found technology which were punctuated by a thousand precious notes of her gratitude. In-laws and grandchildren awaited her annual cards and the themed family Christmas calendar that was her pride and celebration of our yearly memories together. Her 2021 edition was anxiously awaited by us, an ode to my Dad’s recent passing: “Thanks for the Memories.”
With more time and space for herself, our Mom flourished onward. She became an instrument of love and ministry for those who needed her: the forgotten, the mourning, the hungry, the seeking. She was their servant, their hope, their mentor, and their light. She wrote that her mantra for life was Matthew 25: “For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home.” She lived by demonstrating what is meant to BE the hands and feet of Jesus, showing what this looks and feels like through her faith, trust, and action.
She revered her church community Resurrection Catholic Church. This was her other home and the other family that completed her. She contributed in every way she could for nearly 50 years as a parishioner, teacher, and staff member: directing Christian initiation for adults; leading adult faith formation to help people mature on their faith journey; guiding a program for Catholics returning to the church; creating an intergenerational faith formation program; leading Bible study groups up until the days before she left our earthy world. Most importantly, Mom was a mentor to so many parishioners and friends. She taught and challenged them to consider what it meant to serve through humility, forgiveness, and sacrifice. These voyages were her delight.
How our Mom glowed as a regular Sunday lector. Her reading place at the church lectern brought her to life. She was a true orator. She loved reading the words of the Bible because she believed and lived them. She’d glow in her place of comfort (and frequently joked on her way home how women should have the right to be Deacons as well! She did have 5 strong daughters to guide.)
Nowhere did her compassion shine than through her pastoral care ministry, co-laboring with Christ to love, serve, and heal the broken, hurting, and hopeless of this world. For many years, she tended to the elders at the assisted living Pine View Nursing home in St. Charles, giving them skilled care, dignity, and assistance. Later in life, she regularly comforted the elderly at Woodglen Nursing Center and the Hunt Club, leading Bible discussions, bringing Sunday bulletins, and delivering communion. When COVID-19 began (and Mom beat that also, another survivor miracle), her greatest worry was that these senior residents would be left alone. Not surprisingly, she very much-loved Pope Francis, who she felt “walked along the way of God’s mercy and tenderness.”
Final “Babs” tidbits she’d want us to impart. She was a southside White Sox fan and celebrated joyfully when they claimed the World Series in 2005 after an 88-year drought. She was an avid fan of, no…not “Da Bears,” but the arch enemy Green Bay Packers and her favorite contemporary quarterback, Aaron Rodgers. Arby’s was declared by her as “the best chocolate shake in the world.” She proudly won the national Latin language contest in 11th and 12th grade and lovingly challenged her grandchildren to learn Latin, which she considered the ancestral language. Her advice for life? As written by her own lefty hand: 1) Be faithful to your God. 2) Remember that LOVE is more important than money, fame, and power. 3) Be joyful and positive. 4) Learn to forgive – this is different than forgetting. 5) Remember – life is goodness, truth, and beauty. Embrace it! 6) Your family is always your #1. 7) Nothing belongs to you. Take care and share what you have.
Thanks for the memories, Mom.
Barbara Miller, our Mom, was preceded in death by her husband, Walter C. Miller, M.D., her mother and father, Helen Jospehine Kazemek and Frank Benedict Kazemek, and her brothers, Francis Kazemek and Michael Kazemek. She leaves behind many survivors who loved her deeply, including: her 8 children and their spouses – son Mark Miller and Stacey (Graham) Miller, daughter Monika Miller-Neumaier and Michael Neumaier, son Dr. Mike Miller and Wendy Hickman-Miller, daughter Mary (Miller) Rasmussen and Bruce Rasmussen, daughter Mindy Miller-Herman and Jevon Herman, son Dr. Marty Miller and Elizabeth (Bartlett) Miller, daughter Maggie Miller and Hector Dominguez, and daughter Marci (Miller) Jobson and Paul Jobson. Her 22 grandchildren and 6 great-grandchildren will carry on her compassionate work in the world. She will be missed by her siblings and their spouses: Ed and Kris Kazemek, Wally Kazemek (and nephew Jesse Kazemek), Kathleen Kazemek, sister-in-law Cheryl Kazemek (and niece Jennifer Kazemek), and sister-in-law Lorie Miller (and niece Cindy Osland).
Per her wishes, the family will host a Mass on Saturday, December 18, 2021, at 10am, immediately followed by a Celebration of Life at Resurrection Catholic Church located at 30W350 Army Trail Road, Wayne IL 60184. Please mark your calendars and join us for laughs, tears, and remembrances.
Published by Kane County Chronicle from Oct. 28 to Nov. 4, 2021.
Credit: Source link
