Jeff Cangialosi

How do you measure a life? A grand philosophical question with a plethora of potential answers, but this last weekend had me thinking about this as I attended my grandmother’s funeral.

My grandmother Theresa DiFranco passed away at the age of 96. Born in 1929, she was a product of the Great Depression. She lived through World War II, watched the first man walk on the moon, witnessed and eventually embraced the advent of the personal computer, and adopted the beautiful sport of pickleball (one of the earliest advocates for the game that has now swept the nation). My uncle did a fantastic job eulogizing her (here). She was a trailblazer on many accounts while still building a traditional family and chasing the American dream. She had a full life and fortunately spent almost all of her 96 years in relatively good health playing golf, pickleball, and bocce well into her 90s.

This past Saturday our family held her funeral service. The last several months were challenging as Grandma Terry’s health quickly declined, but this Saturday was meant to be a celebration of her life. And as cliched as it is to say, I think it really was. My grandmother literally filled the church will all the people who showed up to pay their respects. Many were family – we have a large Italian family so that helps fill the pews. Some were friends from her retirement community, some were former neighbors, many were friends of her daughter and son who enjoyed her cooking or spent time with her over the years as she cared for my brother and me. Most had a story about Terry, some kindness she had extended or some memorable comment she had made.

A member of the church staff came up to me after the mass and said how incredible it was to see all these people come to church for my grandmother. He said most people who pass away at 96 barely have 10 people who show up to see them off, and it’s generally a sad affair. This was the opposite. While there was and continues to be immense sadness that we have lost this vibrant person, it was clear my grandmother had touched so many lives even in just a small way and been a part of a community. Of course, there is no perfect way to measure a life well led, but filling the church certainly seems to be a decent leading metrics. I think it was an outcome a life spent in giving to others and building meaningful relationships.