Nasrin Seifi

Nasrin Seifi, 82, of Frisco, Texas, passed away on August 15, 2026, at home – four days short of her eighty-third birthday. She spent her life focused on other people, and she leaves behind a family and a wide circle of friends who experienced her selfless nature.

She was born on August 19, 1943, in Shiraz, Iran — the youngest in her family, and somehow, from the beginning, the one they all looked up to. They wanted to be wherever she was. She taught herself to sew as a small child — no lessons, no one showing her how — and began by making clothes for her dolls. Her relatives noticed, and before long, the women in the family were bringing her their fabric and asking her to make their clothes, too. She was a girl doing work that grown women trusted her with, and she did it happily because it was for them.

Nasrin was only ten years old when she lost her eighteen-year-old brother, Reza, who had been more of a father to her, as he always took care of her. She carried him with her always and spoke of him often, treasuring a little doll he had given her. Anyone who knew her well may recognize something in that: the girl who lost her caretaker grew into a woman who spent seventy years taking care of everyone else.

She loved to tell stories about her childhood, and the stories gave her away. She was never the main character in them. They were about Reza, about her cousins, about the neighbor down the road, about the relatives who admired her stitching. She remembered other people's lives in vivid detail and her own only in passing.

At 18, she married Mehdi, 31, and they made a beautiful life together for 60 years. Nasrin’s children were her great work, and she was fiercely proud of them and of her grandchildren — proud in the quiet way of a woman who would rather tell you about them than about herself. She loved doing things for them: cooking for them, driving them wherever they needed to go, staying up later and getting up earlier than anyone asked her to. She raised them with one instruction repeated so often it became a family refrain: “Be kind to each other, and stay in touch when I'm gone.” She did not say it lightly, and she did not say it once. Having lost a brother at ten, she knew exactly what she was asking for and exactly what it was worth. She wanted them to understand that a family does not hold itself together on its own; it takes phone calls, forgiveness, and showing up.

Her generous nature reached well past her own front door. She had a soft spot for anyone carrying more than their share of burdens. Her lawncare man, Leo, was not just someone who cut her grass — she knew his name and his circumstances, and there was always something for him: a plate, a cold drink, a little extra, an unhurried conversation in the driveway. She never advertised any of it and would have been embarrassed to be thanked.

In Iran there was Ebrahim, a friend of the family from long ago who had always been there for her, and whom she never stopped looking after in return. She cared deeply about him and his family. Every time she traveled to Iran, she brought two suitcases packed with clothes and toys for them, and in between she called to make sure he was all right. She called everyone and always had news of every relative and friend, and she could talk for hours about their lives.

The girl who sewed for her dolls in Shiraz never put the needle down. For decades she designed and sewed custom women's clothing, sending brides, graduates, and friends out the door standing a little taller. She played piano and organ. She was a wonderful cook who wanted nothing more than to feed the people she loved, and she loved to host — holidays, Sunday dinners, gatherings for no reason at all — cooking too much on purpose and waving off help with the dishes long after the last guest had gone. Everyone else was served first. Everyone else was taken care of first. She sat down last, if she sat down at all. All of it was one impulse: make something beautiful, and hand it to someone else.

Nasrin is survived by her son Payman (wife Sabine), daughter Mahtab (husband Gary), and son Mahan (wife Brenda); her grandchildren, Melodee, Oksana, Ethan, Apolline, and Skylar; numerous cousins, nieces and nephews; extended family by marriage; and many friends she counted as family. She was preceded in death by her husband, Mehdi; her mother, Ozra; and her brother, Reza.

Graveside services will be held at Little Elm Cemetery in Frisco, Texas on August 22, 2026, at 10:00 a.m. In lieu of flowers, the family asks you to honor Nasrin by calling your brother or sister, being kind to one another, and staying in touch with your loved ones.