Today was the memorial service for my paternal grandfather Ray, who passed on December 10, 2024. It was a beautiful service and reception, which was lovingly put together through the hard work of many people (big shoutout especially to my aunt Sandy and my dad, Ray the 3rd!), and attended by over 200 people.

I was given the honor of speaking on behalf of the 10 Arata & Gandolfo grandchildren. It was a true joy for me to play this role in the ceremony. Death is a sacred thing, something I feel drawn to be a part of in my life. Death helps us see and feel the gift of Life in a deeper way. My grandfather’s death makes me appreciate his spirit even more deeply, all the gifts he gave with his life… and the absolutely priceless opportunity in front of me to live another day as part of his living legacy.

I’d like to share the eulogy I wrote for him, which I spoke at the service today in San Francisco, to make it public and accessible to anyone who wants to read it. Thank you for celebrating life – his and ours – with me.

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Eulogy for My Nanu

Hello, and thank you so much for being here today. My name is Emma Arata, and I am the first of 10 lucky people in this room who got to experience Ray Arata the 2nd as a grandfather. To us, he was and always will be Nanu.

Nanu used to remind me of my standing in the family every time we embraced at family gatherings. “Emma, you were the first… don’t ever forget it!” he’d say, with a kind of sparkle in his eye. It made me feel like I was special to him, and somehow also made me want to live up to whatever that meant in his eyes. In just a few words and a knowing look, Nanu reminded me that others look up to me, and that being the eldest meant having a kind of responsibility in the family. I hope I can live up to that responsibility today, in sharing with all of you on behalf of all the Arata grandchildren, some words and stories that honor Nanu for being a wonderful grandfather.

When I asked my brothers and cousins to share with me how Nanu impacted them, I heard many common themes – that Nanu was intelligent, witty, curious, caring, a steady presence, a true support us… and always, through ups and downs, a light heart who loved to laugh and have fun.

First, I want to tell you about how Nanu deeply influenced us with his mind, with how much he loved and valued education.

Nanu asked us real questions about our classes when we were in school growing up. He had a way of making school seem more relevant to the real world, by sharing stories from his own life with us that related to what we were studying.

I remember a story he used to tell, about how much he hated Chemistry class, but how years later he ended up being able to use his chemistry knowledge to connect with a woman in his courtroom. She was wearing a necklace with the chemical compound of sugar – and he recognized it. She smiled and told him that her nickname was Sugar. This was a woman he would have otherwise struggled to relate with, and that moment created a human connection for them (something I believe he strived for as a regular practice in his career.)

He would tell this story with delight and awe – showing us that it’s worth it to put in the hard work to learn new things, that you really never know how a good education will benefit you in life, and that there’s even a kind of magic to it. One of Nanu’s great legacies was that he helped all of us pursue higher education, both emotionally and financially.

And Nanu stayed intellectually engaged with life up to the very end, always keeping up with current events and engaging each of us in meaningful conversations. He was curious about new technologies and the way the world is changing. Those of us who have worked in Tech, for example, have sat down with Nanu many times to try to answer his questions about what computer software is, or what our particular work in the digital space is all about. He honestly wanted to understand, even when it baffled him. So he would keep asking questions. And listening, and trying to relate it to things he knew… And eventually he would laugh and let it go.

The second thing I’d like to share today about Nanu… is how he showed us that family means being there for each other.

Nanu was a steady presence in our family. A rock. For my Gandolfo cousins, he lived right around the corner and was there for Sunday family dinners, for drop-in visits with games of dominoes and conversations and story-telling about his youth. And when my cousin Elena would go out at night with her friends, he’d say to her “I’m always watching you”.

Nanu wasn’t an imposing presence, and yet he was powerful. Once “The Judge” had you in his presence, he gave you his full attention – and there was no escaping Nanu’s direct line of questioning. He would ask the hard questions about what we were doing with our lives, and expect us to give well-considered answers and engage in a real dialogue with him. In this way, he held us each to a high standard of accountability, and helped us grow into people who can make more wise decisions for ourselves.

Nanu always showed up for the moments that mattered in our family. He flew to San Diego this summer for my brother Enzo’s wedding, even though air travel had become very cumbersome and uncomfortable for him. He was honest that day when asked how he was – “I’m not doing so well”, he’d say. Yet, he kept a smile on his face through the day and beamed with genuine pride and love as my brother walked down the aisle.

Later in the summer we spent a week together up at his vacation house up in Guerneville. Those were some uncomfortable days for Nanu because he just didn’t have the energy he used to have… and needed a lot of support. But he still found joy in the simple things — in his morning donut, in reading the Chronicle and watching the news, in engaging all of the family in political jousting, in sharing his well-refined taste in aged wines and good, slow meals. And at night on his way to bed, he spoke to my brother “I have a relative who made it past 100… maybe I can make it, too, and be there when you have kids.” Nanu kept his hopeful spirit alive.

And that’s one of the greatest lessons Nanu gave us.

My third point to share about Nanu is that, Even though he could be very practical and no-nonsense in the way that he asked us to reach for success in life, he ALWAYS had a playful, childlike spirit… and showed us the value of enjoying life to the fullest.

Like the time he stayed up late dancing with Elena and her friends at the river house last summer – an unforgettable and magical experience for all involved.

Or the way he would sit at the head of the table with a big smile on his face, deeply enjoying his food and wine and conversations, during our loud holiday meals while the room was unreasonably full of total noise and chaos.

Or the time he flew to North Carolina for my college graduation. He happened to meet my college boyfriend that weekend, and – classic Nanu moment that I will never forget – the first thing he said to him in front of my entire family was “Hey, Baldy!”

And it was in good taste! We all laughed… which just goes to show, Nanu had a special knack for bringing a laugh to any situation.

Nanu, I don’t have enough time or words to fully say it… but thank you.

All of your grandkids will miss you dearly. We will miss playing dominoes with you, even when you ruthlessly beat us and our friends. We will miss politically jousting with you, even when we held differing opinions. We will miss you sharing your hidden stashes of chocolate with us. We will miss the nicknames you gave us, and the way you made each of us feel special. We will even miss your hard questions… because it showed that you cared.

Thank you for giving us the priceless gift of life and family. We will always remember you well, and do our best to honor your memory. Rest in peace.

And for the living… I’d like to close by sharing a phrase that Nanu used all the time, which summed up some his zest for life, and which I’m sure he carried with him into Death:

“Sempre Avanti!” — Always Forward.

Thank you.