Susan Dayle Miller

Susan, our Mom, was a force of nature. She was there to comfort us when we were sick and to defend us when we needed it. She was a never-ending font of knowledge and strategy: spreadsheets and to-do lists for every occasion. She had a razor-sharp intellect, exceptional political acumen, and a cutting wit. She was a collector of collections, beautiful things, their names, and books about them.

She dared to care deeply, to hold strong opinions, and to ask thoughtful questions—and in doing so, made those around her feel seen and accepted without conditions. Susan and Victor were unafraid to express their love, interest, and unwavering support. Together, they modeled what a wholehearted family could be. She had an incredible ability to remember even the smallest things mentioned, often going out of her way to research them or find the perfect, thoughtful gift. She was strong yet gentle, and above all, generous, fearless, and insatiably curious.

She Made Things. She made music, picking up instruments (Mountain dulcimer, hammer dulcimer, mandolin, piano, guitar) mastering them before moving on to a new one. Warping and weaving complex patterns on her looms. Processing raw wool, dying, spinning, knitting it into socks, hats, scarves, sweaters, blankets. Hands always busy, mind always seeking the next challenge.

As a mom, she was adventurous—new recipes, never the same twice, trips to the shell shop, succulent shop, antique shops, garage sales, exploring new routes and new neighborhoods. Gathering leaves in the fall, preserving our favorites with glycerin. Telling each other our dreams in our morning conversations. She always dreamed of old houses.

Her faith was unshakable, but not loud. She had a quiet peace about her that was tangible. She had reasons to be angry at God, and she overcame them. She had a lot to complain about but never complained. She documented, strategized, sometimes lamented, but never became bitter.

She wrote music and songs, like her mom and dad before her. She sang in a beautiful alto voice.

She knew every plant she encountered by common and Latin name, and loved to work with Victor (Dad) choosing color, texture, scent and shape combinations in their landscapes.

She was a humble gardener in God’s garden, tilling hard soil with honest deep conversations, planting seeds of love, helping all who knew her to grow stronger in their faith in her thoughtful, loving way.

She embodied gentle, open, true hospitality. “This house is yours, help yourself!” She welcomed strangers who became friends who became family.

She talked about her life in thirds — first, her free-range childhood on the family farm in Windsor, Colorado—learning to love nature, family, and music. In the next third, she came to know Jesus, but then entered Mercy Farm, a Christian commune in Wellington, Colorado, and suffered under authoritarian leaders. Rather than allow her spirit to be quenched, she wrote beautiful songs based on Psalms, and sheltered her children from the Farm’s worst aspects by cultivating joy and beauty. The last third of her life began with an invitation to sing in the choir at Church of the Good Shepherd Episcopal in Bonita, California, where she found a home. At a Cursillo weekend retreat, by God’s grace, she was able to let go of well-justified anger. She was unwavering in her faith through many trials, and was a musician, an encourager, an organizer, and a Keeper of Truths in her church community.

She worked her entire adult life, glazing Victor’s mugs and running the pottery business, then as the CFO of their small businesses, Arc Products and AP Precision in San Diego, California—these were not her favorite tasks but they needed to be done, and she was very good at them. When she was finally able to retire in Jamul, California, she relished her life of reading, weaving, sock-making, organizing Cursillo retreats, welcoming people into their beautiful home, and being a loving, attentive “Grandma Barn” to Anthony (9) and Edda (4).

She loved to travel. She visited Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Portugal, Spain, India, China, and France. She loved to stay long enough to soak up a place and learn as much as he could while there.

Susan was strong and independent to the end. Even though her autoimmune condition and then cancer took from her more and more aspects of her self-expression, she remained her loving, competent self until the end, when she told us, “I love you very much, but I am very tired, and I want to go home.”

As she joins our Dad Victor, she leaves behind a legacy of love, creativity and hospitality in her children Joanna Casucci and Joshua Miller, their spouses Tom Casucci and Marie Hill, and her grandchildren Anthony and Edda. She is also survived by her sisters Paula Johnson and Ramona Baker, her brothers Jon Lind and Martin Lind, and her father, Ted Lind.