Nancy A. Collins

Nancy A. Collins (nee Kerr), born on February 27, 1931 in Chicago, passed away surrounded by family at the age of 94 on Saturday, March 15, 2025 at Endeavor Health Edward Hospital in Naperville, Illinois. Nancy was a lifelong resident of Chicago.
Nancy is survived by sons David (Anne) Collins of Aurora, Illinois; John (Becky) Klein-Collins of Naperville; and Dan (Julie) Collins of Chicago; grandchildren Grace and Evan Collins; Morgan and Avery Brahm; Luke, Seth and Jonah Klein-Collins; Kirsten (Niko) Yaksich and Danny Collins; and great granddaughter, Athena Yaksich. Nancy was a devoted daughter of the late Walter and Stella (nee Hughes) Kerr, dear sister of Johnny (Nancy) Kerr and the late Walter (the late Dolores) Kerr, fond aunt, great-aunt, great-great aunt and friend of many.
Nancy lived independently on Chicago's southwest side well past her 93rd birthday. She shopped for her own groceries, drove herself and others to and from appointments, and enthusiastically collected her next door neighbor's mail. She made many things look easy at such an advanced age, even when they were not.
Nancy graduated from high school - after surviving the wrath of nuns who took issue with her use of lipstick - attended secretarial classes at DePaul University, and worked in a variety of professional secretarial positions at NBC, the Chicago Public Schools, and the law firm of Kelley, Drye, and Warren, LLP. She loved her professional life and those she befriended along the way.
Even as a busy professional secretary, Nancy always made time for family. Her brother Johnny, 11 years her junior, once asked his big sister to type one of his high school term papers because his teacher promised extra credit to those who typed them. Nancy agreed. One evening after work, she sat at her office desk and typed the paper while Johnny waited patiently. After an hour, Johnny had a perfectly typed term paper and an offer of dinner at a nice downtown Italian restaurant. During dinner, Nancy taught Johnny how to handle himself in a restaurant, how to interact with waiters, how to pay a check, and how to leave an appropriate tip. It was a life lesson he has remembered ever since. He received an A on the paper, but more importantly, he learned that helping family and friends is one of the most important things one can do. That's how Nancy lived her life.
Nancy enjoyed talking with others, particularly about her grandchildren. Kirsten, Grace, Danny, Luke, Seth, Jonah, Evan, Morgan and Avery brought enormous joy to her life. She lovingly cared for them at various stages of their development, drove them to school or to after school appointments, cared for them when they became ill, and attended their extracurricular activities. When Nancy's granddaughter Kirsten and Kirsten's husband, Niko, became new parents, Nancy proudly embraced her status as a great grandmother to Athena. She was able to keep her grandchildren on the phone with a dexterity envied by their parents.
She tackled the Chicago Tribune Sunday crossword each week, enjoyed a good mystery novel, and befuddled her children and grandchildren with shorthand. Luke, Seth, and Jonah remember her passion for ice cream, no matter the time of day, and her effort at the age of 92 to attend their college graduations. Grace and Evan remember her progressive open-mindedness as she accepted everyone for who they were, always being intentional about making others feel welcome and valued. Kirsten and Danny remember seeing grandma in the stands for their games, attending the many grandparents' days during elementary school and high school, and often taking them to Top Notch for burgers and "real" milkshakes. Morgan and Avery will remember Nancy as a radiant beam of sunshine, encouraging and wise, offering hugs that were worth more than anything else.
The last thing Nancy wanted, though, was to inconvenience others. Her reluctance to disrupt others' lives became a primary focus in her final years. She often secretly drove herself to doctor's appointments in downtown Chicago, much to her sons' consternation. She once told one of her sons, "I just wanted to see if I could still do it," to which he groused about feeling like the son of a 93-year-old teenager. Nancy laughed at that one.
Parenting advice never crossed Nancy's lips. She listened intently to her sons and daughters-in-law discuss parenting issues, and she might have even sprinkled in a story about how they were probably guilty of the same (or worse) growing up, but she never spoke to how they should parent. She was just as consistent when her sons and daughters-in-law were planning weddings, invoking the mother-of-the-groom's duty to "wear beige and keep my mouth shut." She did.
Nancy lived by the old adage of not saying anything if she didn't have something good to say. She never said a bad word about anyone. In cases where she might have taken offense, she typically just smiled and looked for the nearest exit. Conflict wasn't her style.
Dogs, no matter the breed, captured Nancy's heart. Growing up, her family took in too many dogs to count. She loved to tell the story of her family's German Shepherd, a dog smart enough - she was convinced - to listen to the local pharmacist when he told it to return home. She watched all of her "granddogs" when her kids went on vacation because that was her ideal vacation. In her later years, when she was not the most mobile, she still insisted on staying with her granddogs. They brought her great joy; each most likely felt like the most important dog in the family.
Simple pleasures brought the most joy to Nancy's life. Petting a dog. A good cup of coffee. Watching birds at the feeder. Greeting a neighbor. Ice cream of any flavor. A scenic ride. A quick text from a grandchild. A home cooked meal. It was always the thought that counted. Always.
Nancy was a fighter and a realist until the very end. When she was diagnosed with lymphoma in November of 2024, she decided to respond with chemotherapy. The initial regimen failed. In her final few weeks, a conversation with a very wise and compassionate oncologist helped her form a plan. She decided hospice was the way to go, but only if her sons were in agreement. She always thought of them first, even when it came to writing her own final chapter. After she reached her decision and uncharacteristically shed a few tears, she told her sons there would be "no more blubbering." And that was it. That was Mom.
In the book Tuesdays with Morrie, Morrie Schwartz tells Mitch Albom, his former student and the author of the best seller, that "Death ends a life, not a relationship." Now that Mom is gone, Morrie's words ring true. Mom may be gone, but she lives on in all of us.
Services and interment will be private.
In lieu of flowers, Nancy would be grateful for any donations to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, PO Box 22324, New York, NY 10087, (888) 557-7177, https://www.lls.org, which was so generous during her treatment.
Arrangements by Friedrich-Jones Funeral Home & Cremation Services, 44 S. Mill St., Naperville, IL 60540.
For more information, please visit www.friedrich-jones.com or call (630) 355-0213.