Doris (Theadora) Sigalos Heil

She didn’t want to miss a moment.

For most of her life, she would sleep three to five hours a night. Not because she couldn’t sleep, but because there was just so much to do. She never complained about being tired—or about anything else for that matter—because she was on a mission. Family dinner could be served at 9 pm and then you might find Doris finishing laundry at 2:30 in the morning. But even on three or four hours of sleep, she was always kind, most always happy—and so scarily intuitive that she always knew exactly what you were REALLY thinking and precisely what advice and which gentle warnings you needed to hear. With her presence, she made everyone and everything around her better.

Doris (Theodora) Sigalos was born May 10, 1930 in The Bronx, New York, to two fully-Greek parents, Arthur and Mary Sigalos, recent immigrants from Sparta— the City State whose culture famously centered on discipline, honor, service, and courage. She hated being called ‘Doris’, and wanted to be called ‘Teddy’, but Doris stuck, and she persevered— because above all, Doris Sigalos Heil was a strong Spartan woman. When people would ask her what her hobbies were, what she liked to do, she would always give the same answer: “work.” And she wasn’t kidding.

After her mother's tragic death when she was just two, the family moved to Southern California, where she grew up in the San Gabriel Valley. She’d wake before dawn to help with her father's lunch truck business before school, go to class, then work more hours getting the truck ready to go out again the next day.

After high school, Doris quickly got a job at Bank of America in Baldwin Park and developed a reputation for being both an industrious worker and a delight. Indomitably willful when she wanted to be, she convinced her conservative Greek father to let her rent an apartment where she could live as a single young woman—very unusual for the time—and reveled in her independence. At night, she and her friends would go out swing dancing at the Hollywood Palladium, making memories that would have her eyes glowing as she recalled them for the rest of her life.

It was at the bank where a customer played matchmaker and introduced her to Delbert Heil, a young man getting ready to take over his family's small construction business after the death of his father. Though she was content in her the then-considered spinsterhood of being single into her late 20s, and despite Del famously dropping her off at the curb on their first date instead of walking her in, calling out “GOODNIGHT!” as he sped away, Doris decided to marry him anyway. They would go on to work as a team for the next 60 years, creating a successful construction company that evolved into a development and real estate investment firm. Their partnership was extraordinary—two equals building not only a business empire, but a thriving family.

If you were to think about the Golden Age of Southern California, when people around the world came to believe that any dream could come true here, the Heil Family might be the what you’d imagine to represent it. Two parents, four kids: Janet, Joni (now ‘August’), David, and Duane (girl, girl, boy, boy, each planned and born exactly 13 months apart— what organization! What precision!) living in a beautiful Spanish-style villa nestled in the hills of Hacienda Heights, a lemon orchard and horses in the backyard (maybe also a few secretly-planted cannabis plants that led to a helicopter police raid, but we don’t need to talk about that right now, do we Duane?), and— Crucially!, to Doris— a fresh pie on the counter every day for anyone who might stop by. Unsurprisingly, people always stopped by— from neighborhood kids to their parents, from family friends to workers for the company. Doris loved having her living room filled with warm conversations, laughter, and baked goods, loved making her home everyone’s favorite gathering place.

When the kids were off to college and the company had developed, built, and then decided to operate a hotel right next to Disneyland, Doris decided she wanted to run the gift shop. With a lack of retail experience but a boundless determination, both she and the shop both thrived. She would drive to Los Angeles herself to carefully select and stock inventory. She engaged with each guest in such a way that many would return year after year not only for the location, but also for the charming woman who not only helped them find the perfect souvenir, but somehow remembered their children’s names. It didn’t matter what time it was, she wouldn’t close the shop until the last guest had what they needed.

After very briefly “retiring" at 67, Doris immediately began working for her daughter's advertising agency, handling Human Resources until age 87. She kept salary information on legal pads instead of spreadsheets, but her true value was priceless: she took the time to know everyone's life story, quietly listened for needs she could help meet, and stopped to pick up each person’s favorite donuts on her way in… the kind of intentionality that let everyone know they were not only valued, but also seen. Her commitment to kindness was as much the reason she got up in the morning, the reason she kept going when all her friends were slowing down. Well actually, that… and the donuts. And maybe the Marie Callender’s pies.

As each of her children grew up to build successful entrepreneurial businesses of their own, Doris also welcomed 11 grandchildren into the world and more recently, 5 great grandchildren. Just like when she was a Mom, Doris as Yia Yia has been deeply embedded into each of her grandkid’s lives. Present. She was there for every, birthday, for each dance recital, choir performance, horse show, play, or game, every Child of the Month assembly, Very Important Person Day, every single graduation and semi-important event and holiday… All of them. You could not keep her away. And why would you want to try? She never wanted anything more than to just be there to smile, cheer them on and just truly love them.

It was always all about You with Doris, never about her. She wanted to know how you were, what you had been up to, and in her latter years, if her granddaughters were finally getting married.

She never bragged, and almost never criticized. Del always said she was classy, and he was right. She had amazing style and taste, elegantly dressed with impeccable posture, and even during the time she spent in assisted living, her hair and nails were always done. Del was right, she was a joy to behold as she said and did all the right things. Not surprisingly, you never heard her say a single bad word about anyone, ever. When Hacienda Heights was in an uproar about the biggest Buddhist temple in America. Doris didn’t complain. She baked cookies and took them to the monks the day they moved in. Because she wanted everyone to feel welcome.

She wasn’t overly serious, either—Doris was a kick. Quick witted for sure. Dressing up in costumes, laughing uproariously in spite at everything from Zoolander in theaters to a particularly scandalous line of The Golden Girls. Truly anyone who spent time with her has at least one funny story to share or smile about as they remember her.

And if you knew her well, you knew It was never too late to call. She would always answer and never sound like she had been sleeping. In fact, she’d probably smile let you know that she knew it was you, like she’d been waiting for your call. She was even known to call at 2 AM out of seemingly nowhere, asking about a particular person who happened to be hurting and awake themselves. Pie and coffee at midnight? Always a good idea; not only because pie and coffee were her two major food groups, but because she would go anywhere at any time to spend time with you. She loved nothing more than quality time with the people that she loved.

Because of Doris, every single member of the family and lots of friends, showed up at Capistrano Shores on the beach in San Clemente for Fourth of July for over 20 consecutive years. Attendance was mandatory. You could be anywhere else for every other holiday, but that day belonged to Doris and Del. It was an amazing tradition built over decades that all of her kids and grandkids cherish, ritualized with chaotic group photos, matching custom-themed hoodies, hand churned ice cream and the occasional rogue fireworks that would almost set the neighbor’s roof on fire.

Del and Doris relocated permanently from Hacienda Heights to San Clemente in the 90’s, first living in their beach house and then moving to the Sea Pointe community at the top of a hill on the North side of town. Doris quickly knew every merchant on Del Mar Street and they all knew and loved her. Seemed she was always buying something thoughtful for someone. You would also hear stories about the lengths she would go to if she thought someone needed something or was just lonely. She befriended a 90-something year old widow who she found playing the piano at the local Chinese restaurant, because she lived alone. Pretty soon Doris was showing up at the lady’s house, just to bring her a donut and to chat for a bit. And she and Del wound up eating way more Chinese food than they would have otherwise, just to be there, offer some applause and slip some cash into her tip jar. There are hundreds of stories like this throughout Doris’ life, because that’s who she was.

When Doris slipped quietly away be reunited with Del on June 9th, 2025, shortly after her 95th birthday, she had just spent a lovely evening outside, enjoying the soft light of the moonrise on the lake, listening to the birds, and then the frogs start to sing… surrounded by family who loved her, for all the love she poured out, and for so much more. And she absolutely knew that she was loved, and how much she meant to all of us.

And you really have to believe that was just about all she was looking for in this life.

Doris leaves behind a family that will miss her always, but are so blessed to have had her here for the time they did. Her four children, Janet, August, David and Duane and her brothers Tony and Carl.

From Janet Beal and her husband Tom:

• Jessica Hummel, her husband Sean and two great granddaughters, Aurora and Sawyer;

• Jordann Beal, her partner James and great grandson Grayson;

From August Brice and her husband Hal:

• Jastyne Brice;

• Jadian Lewis, her husband Andrew and great grandson Constantine;

From David Heil, married to Sonja in 2023

• Blaize Vitas, her husband Danny and great granddaughter, Olympia;

• Hutton Heil;

• Logan Heil;

• Harper Heil;

From Duane Heil:

• Madison Heil;

• Brennan Heil;

• Slater Heil;

A Celebration of Life and graveside service will be held on Friday, July 11th.

Pacific View Memorial Park

3500 Pacific View Drive

Corona Del Mar, CA 92660

2:00PM: Funeral Service-Chapel

3:00: Graveside Service

3:45PM: Celebration Of Life-Chapel