Amy Miller

We are gathered here today to remember a woman who, at just 50 years old, lived a lifetime’s worth of experiences. She was a daughter, a niece, a mother and a grandmother as well as a friend to many . But more than the titles she held, she was a person defined by a spirit that simply refused to break.They say that life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, but about learning to dance in the rain. For Amy, life was often a storm. She faced struggles that many of us may never fully understand, yet you would never have known it by looking at her.

She carried her burdens with a smile that felt like a gift to everyone else. It wasn’t a smile of ease; it was a smile of courage. It was her way of telling the world—and her family—that she was okay, and that she wanted you to be okay, too.We often use the phrase "she’d give you the shirt off her back" as a cliché, but for her, it was a way of life. She didn’t have much, but what she did have was never hers alone. If she had a dollar, and you needed fifty cents, she’d find a way to give you the whole thing. She understood what it felt like to go without, and that fueled a radical kind of kindness. She didn’t help others because she had an abundance; she helped because she had a heart that was bigger than her circumstances.Being a mother was a central part of her soul. Like any parent, she carried the weight of "what ifs." She deeply wished she could have spent more time with her children—to have shared more meals, more laughs, and more of the quiet moments that make up a life.

But there is a specific, profound kind of love in respect. She respected the decisions of her children to keep their lives separate, even when it was difficult for her. She didn't let her own longing turn into bitterness. Instead, she loved from where she was, honoring their boundaries because she wanted them to find their own peace and their own paths. That is a selfless, rare kind of motherhood—to love someone enough to let them choose their own distance.To her mother and her father she was a reminder of strength. To her children and grandchildren, she was a legacy of kindness. To all of us, she was a lesson. She taught us that you don't need a perfect life to be a perfect light for others. She taught us that even when life is hard, you can still choose to be the person who helps, the person who smiles, and the person who loves without strings attached.Amy, we are sorry for the struggles you endured, but we are so proud of the woman you remained through it all. You gave so much of yourself to this world. Now, it is your time to rest—to be free of the weight, to be at peace, and to know that you were loved exactly as you were.