At 87, Mark Miller has learned something about resilience. The Vandalia Class of 1958 graduate has spent a lifetime helping families through their darkest moments as a funeral director, served his community in countless capacities, and recently faced a series of personal losses that would break most people. Yet when you meet Mark, you encounter a man who's sharp, engaged, and still swinging a tennis racket with purpose.

"I've been thoroughly blessed many times," Mark reflects, "and to come back and be able to spend my life here in Vandalia has been great."

Mark's path to Vandalia wasn't direct. Born here, his family left after World War II when his father's job disappeared, leading them to live in various places including Bloomington and Sumner, Illinois, near Lawrenceville. "I showed up here in the fifth grade," Mark recalls, and stayed through high school graduation in 1958.

Those high school years shaped him in ways that would influence his entire approach to life. "I enjoyed Vandalia High School," he says, describing himself as someone who was "never quite the president" but always involved. He participated in plays, played basketball and football, and discovered a passion for tennis that continues today. "I took part in the plays, played a little basketball, a little football, a lot of tennis."

After high school, Mark headed to Greenville College with plans to teach, but life had other directions in mind. "I thought I was going to teach school," he explains. "And then my father had some health problems. My father's a funeral director. I thought, well, I better get a funeral director's license also."

This practical decision led him to Worsham College in Chicago for mortuary science training. "I had taken a field biology course at Greenville College, and I got done with that. I said, I don't care if I see another tree in the rest of my life. About six months in Chicago, I said, get me off of this concrete."

When his father called about a funeral home for sale in Ramsey, Mark's initial reaction was dismissive. "No way. This was back when I didn't want to see another tree." But he reconsidered, and the family spent 18 years in Ramsey, where Mark's children received what he calls "a heck of a good educational start" before transferring to Vandalia, where "they did super here."

His daughter earned an MBA and now works for Phoenix Metals, traveling extensively in a business that might surprise people with its scope and success. His son Mark followed him into the funeral profession, studying mortuary science at Carbondale. "The kids did real well," Mark says with pride. "If you put your mind to it, schools in Fayette County, you can do anything you want to do 100%. They can prepare you."

But life brought profound challenges. Mark lost his son to throat cancer after a 14-year battle, a loss that came during what he describes as a devastating two-year period. "I lost my sister, lost my wife, lost my son, lost my Shar Pei dog. My neighbors moved and the Methodist church broke apart." The cumulative weight of these losses might have overwhelmed someone else, but Mark found strength in his work and community connections.

"I think probably the thing that helped me get through it was that I had to be at work every day," he explains. "Had I been at home, like many retired people, just with your feet up, you'd have been in trouble." His commitment to serving grieving families gave him purpose during his own grief, embodying his philosophy that funeral directors should be "part of the solution."

Recently, Mark found companionship with a high school classmate who also lost her spouse. "I found a classmate of mine from high school that we've been spending time together with, and all of a sudden, people say, hey, we can see a change in you." The relationship illustrates something Mark understands deeply: "It's the thing you miss the most. A human touch."

Throughout his life, Mark has served his community with remarkable consistency. He's spent 63 years in the Masonic Lodge, been a Methodist since 1954, and served on various boards including the Park District (where current pool manager Lisa Robbins once worked for him), Cemetery Board, Ramsey School Board, and Ramsey City Board. He's even been "a defeated political candidate a time or two," but that doesn't diminish his commitment to civic engagement.

Tennis remains one of Mark's great passions. He organized tennis tournaments in Vandalia for several years and maintained a tennis league until economic realities forced many participants to leave the community for work. At 87, he still plays regularly at Dr. Dawson's indoor tennis facility, often with players in their 80s. "We're 87, 85 and a couple 80s playing indoor tennis. It's not what it used to be, but we hit the ball pretty hard once in a while."

Mark's perspective on his sport reflects his competitive spirit: "I like to hit the drop shots and the old folks can't run up there and get them." When the city renovates its tennis courts with six new ones, Mark plans to help rebuild interest in the sport, though he admits, "It won't be too late for me now."

Perhaps nowhere is Mark's attention to detail and passion for craftsmanship more evident than in his massive electric train collection. Started in 1946 as a Christmas gift, the O gauge layout now fills a room twice the size of the school conference room where we met. "Every bit of it myself," Mark says of the construction, which includes wooden framework mountains built with chicken wire and joint compound rather than modern foam techniques.

The funeral industry has changed dramatically during Mark's five decades in the business. "For the first 50 years, it was pretty much steady. Bodies were embalmed, caskets. And now cremation has taken over because of the cost." More troubling to Mark are changing family priorities: "When I first started, if grandpa passed away, the family dropped what they were doing and took care of the grandma and the funeral. Now they call up and they say, folks, can you hold grandpa's body for three weeks? The grandkids want to go on a cruise."

Despite these changes, Mark continues working, partly because his son's illness prevented the planned retirement succession, but also because he finds meaning in the work. His approach to families reflects hard-won wisdom: "If I can't help you get through this, then I'm not doing my job."

Looking back on nearly 90 years, with over 60 spent serving his community, Mark sees a life shaped by service, loss, and connection. "People here are great. If it wasn't for the people, people make it go." His story reminds us that resilience isn't about avoiding hardship—it's about finding ways to serve others even when life delivers its heaviest blows.

Whether he's helping a family say goodbye to a loved one, organizing a tennis match, or working on his elaborate train layout, Mark Miller embodies a generation that understood service as a way of life. At 87, he remains living proof that purpose and community can sustain us through anything life might bring.