Jeff

Jeff is the kind of man whose life story doesn’t just inspire — it redefines what it means to endure, to grieve deeply, and to rise stronger every time life throws a challenge your way.

From the moment he was a child, Jeff was told time and again what he couldn’t do because of his visual impairment, but he made it his mission to prove otherwise. “I get really motivated when someone tells me I can’t do something,” he said, reflecting on his early life. He spoke of his parents with great admiration, explaining they did their best although “there was no manual for raising a legally blind child.” They never believed he could — or should — ride a bicycle. So naturally, Jeff began to borrow kids’ bikes in his neighborhood, and despite getting skinned knees in the process, he proved them wrong. The limits placed on him as a child lit a quiet fire within — a steady determination to break barriers.

In early adulthood, Jeff returned to the very place where he once found joy, belonging, and the freedom to just be a kid — the New Jersey state camp for the blind and visually impaired. As a camp counselor, he offered hope, wisdom, and a living example of possibility to the next generation of children who saw themselves reflected in him.

Later in life, Jeff experienced profound grief — not once, but twice — losing both his first wife and his second wife. Jeff and Karen were married for 41 beautiful years. Six years before her passing, her health took a turn for the worse, and he remained by her side every step of the way. He spoke about the emotional turmoil of watching a spouse suffer, and how his faith got him through difficult times.

In the quiet aftermath of losing Karen, he never expected to find love again — until he met Donna. Her gentle presence brought light to his darkest days, offering not just companionship, but a healing kind of love that carried him through the hardest moments with grace and unwavering support. He later faced the unimaginable pain of losing her, too, openly speaking about the tragedy of her death by suicide. “After I lost Donna, I found myself grieving both of them at the same time. I’m not going to deny that has been very, very difficult.”

Listening to Jeff share his story was nothing short of inspiring — not just for the strength behind his words, but for the raw, unfiltered way he opened his heart, illustrating the depth of his pain, resilience, and the hard-earned wisdom that comes from living every emotion fully.

Since moving to a senior living community, Jeff has grown his support network. “It’s like we’re this humongous extended family. I’ve just never been around such a large group of truly caring people,” he explained. This newfound family has also encouraged Jeff to step outside his comfort zone and try something new — his recent zip lining adventure drawing parallels to his early years riding a bicycle.

He recalls that day at the zip line park quite fondly. It had rained, and his sneakers were caked in two inches of mud. With each ladder, Jeff and his friends ascended higher on the ropes course. When the community’s executive director hesitated, Jeff laughed, “Come on, Amanda. Blind guy’s going to go up the ladder, and you’re going to chicken out on it.” With a limited visual field, he weighed his options: either descend the ladder system, or push forward, overcoming his fears. Drawing on those same lessons he experienced as a child, Jeff continued, determined to accomplish what he set forth to do.

Through exhilarating adventures with new friends and a busy schedule with two local choirs, Jeff has filled his days with things that bring him joy. And, while that has been an immense help, he says that the hardest part of his day is going back to his apartment in the evening and feeling alone — the heavy silence bringing back feelings of grief and sorrow. He offers advice to others who may be feeling isolated in their grief, acknowledging that losing a loved one isn't something you recover from, but something you move forward with. “The best way to deal with it is to confront it,” he said, encouraging others to seek support groups and maintain social connections, even if just through phone calls or short visits. And perhaps most importantly, Jeff says to remember that grief can still persist, and that is a normal part of life — but you don’t have to go through that alone.

“It wouldn’t be fair to you if I said I’m like Mr. Resilience or Superman or anything, because I’m sure I’m not,” he chuckled.

And to that, I would respectfully disagree.

Jeff’s journey — rooted in resilience, shaped by loss, and lifted by faith and community — is a testament to the power of living with purpose, and a reminder that even in life’s hardest seasons, we can still choose to soar.

If you or someone you know is struggling, help is available. Call or text the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline or visit 988lifeline.org for free and confidential support 24/7.

Listen to an excerpt from Jeff's interview.

To view the complete design of this article visit the digital magazine here.