I’ve always had a deep understanding of strong women—and the remarkable strength of the human spirit, even in life’s final moments—thanks to my mom, Stella Root. My mom’s story is one of a kind, and she passed away as my hero.
But I’ve recently encountered a story that rivals my mom’s willpower. My new hero is Melinda Miller.
First, let me tell you my mom’s story. Stella Root was in her last days, battling cancer in New York, while I was 3,000 miles away in Los Angeles. My dad had died of cancer just 28 days earlier. I visited as often as I could in her final days, flying back and forth four times in her last month.
Just after I returned to L.A. from that fourth trip, the phone rang. It was her cancer doctor, who told me, “I’ve got bad news, Wayne. Your mom is, for all intents and purposes, dead. Her brain stopped functioning. We took her off life support. Her heart will stop in a few minutes. She’s gone. I’m sorry. I know you just got home. So, please don’t rush back. I don’t want any more tragedies in your family. She’s gone. Take your time, get some rest. Take care of yourself. Your sister will arrange everything. You can come back in a few days.”
Then he handed the phone to my sister, Lori. Once the doctor stepped away, Lori whispered, “Don’t listen to the doctor, Wayne. Rush home. Mom’s heart is still beating. She is alive. She won’t die until you get here. Get home fast!”
I rushed out of the house, caught the red-eye, and made the journey back to New York. Between the flight, the taxi from the airport, and the morning traffic in New York City, it took about 12 hours.
All night, my sister held my mom’s hand, saying, “Don’t die. Wayne is on the way. You have to wait for Wayne.”
When I finally arrived, my mom was still alive. The heart monitor was still beeping. I hugged her lifeless body and told her, “I love you, Mom. Thank you for staying alive until I got here. You’re amazing. But now it’s time to go. You’ve fought so hard. Go to heaven. God is waiting for you. I give you permission. You can let go.”
And just like that, within seconds, the beeping stopped. She was gone.
She lived through the night, waiting for me—even though the doctor said she was brain dead and her life support was off. Science might say this was impossible, but somehow, my mom’s heart kept beating. Brain dead or not, she knew I was on the way. And she wouldn’t pass until I arrived.
That’s a strong woman. It’s proof of willpower, what I call “the power of relentless.” More importantly, it’s proof of the heart’s power. When your heart is strong, it doesn’t matter if your brain isn’t. Heart is everything.
That day, Stella Root became my hero.
Fast forward to today, and Melinda Miller’s story reminds me so much of my mom’s. Melinda is now my new hero.
Doug Miller, my best friend and business mentor of 40 years, was married to Melinda. Our friend Melinda passed away last night. She was a Texas lady who supported President Trump with unwavering passion and enthusiasm. She was MAGA through and through—in every bone and organ of her body, and especially in her heart.
Melinda had been battling stage 4 cancer for two years, yet she held on. Doctors had repeatedly told Doug, “The end is near. She could pass any day.” This went on for months. Finally, Melinda stopped eating and entered home hospice care.
But Melinda refused to let go. She was determined to live long enough to vote for President Trump one more time. Despite excruciating pain, she hung on all summer, driven by that single purpose.
Remarkably, she held on until the first day of early voting in Texas. On that day, she was still lucid enough to fill out her ballot, which Doug mailed immediately. She had done it.
After casting her vote, Melinda fell asleep, and that was the last time she was fully coherent. Doug expected she would pass any minute, but she held on.
She lived another two weeks, hoping to see Trump’s victory. On Election Night, she was still alive—barely, but her heart was still beating. When President Trump was declared the winner in the middle of the night, Doug hugged Melinda and shared the great news. She opened her eyes and smiled, then slipped back into unconsciousness.
Melinda passed away this morning. She lived just long enough to vote for Trump and to witness his victory. Then, finally, she let go.
I know she’s in heaven now, looking down with a big smile, knowing that Trump won and she got to vote for him one last time, as the final act of her life.
If liberals want to understand how Trump defied the odds once again, I submit Melinda Miller as Exhibit A.
Melinda’s last days are proof of the faith, passion, and loyalty Trump’s supporters have for him. Like Melinda, we would walk over hot coals or broken glass to support Trump, to vote for Trump, and to defend Trump.
We would do anything to see our hero back in the White House, to save America, to protect America, to make America great again.
Good luck, Democrats. You can’t defeat this kind of passion and loyalty.
God bless Melinda Miller—and the millions of American patriots like her. God bless Trump. And God bless America.
P.S. WE WON!
