You Can’t take it With You…and other Lessons Pat Would Have Shared with Giacomo

I am always highly intentional with how I personalize everything, and the why behind my intentions and actions. When my mother-in-law passed away on July 11, I wanted to eulogize her in a way that was unique to our relationship, and also in a way that I could share with my 9-year-old son as I shared the news with him. Reading it this past weekend to a room full of people wasn't easy - I was shaking like a leaf (and I never shake while speaking), but afterward, so many of them shared how touching it was, and that they wished more people could hear the lessons and live like Pat.

So in homage to my amazing, strong, beautiful, larger-than-life mother-in-law, Pat Gaudini, here are her lessons for a life well lived. Please pass them on to anyone who might benefit from a dose of her sunshine.

Lessons Pat Would Have Shared With Giacomo

My son, Giacomo, was too young for Pat to impart her life lessons on him while she still lived in California. So today, here are some lessons I want to pass down to him the way I'd envision her sharing it… and with some Patti-isms… because I think you'll recognize her in every line.

ON first impressions. Your smile is your best accessory — but whatever the occasion, you can never, ever be overdressed.

ON people. You catch more bees with honey. Simple as that. Pat never met a stranger, only a friend she hadn't yet charmed. And it doesn't cost a thing to be kind.

ON the benefit of the doubt. Make the charitable assumption. You never know what someone's carrying — so assume the best, and hand them a little grace. You might be the only sunshine in someone's whole day. Pat handed hers out like she had an endless supply. Turns out she did.

ON money. Don't be too tight with money, always carry cash, and tip generously and then some. Invest in experiences, not things. As Pat would say, "Honey, you can't take it with you."

ON who you bring home. If possible, use your mom as your wingwoman. Pat met me first, thank you very much. Not because she was nosy, but because she could sense a good partner for her son. A word of advice — maybe don't wait quite as long as your dad did, but better late than never.

ON hard work and perseverance. Look up the word grit and you'll find something like: courage and resolve; strength of character. Look up tact and you'll find: the ability to handle a difficult situation, or people, with grace. Pat had both in spades. She looked at the fur industry, decided she could do it better than the men running it, and borrowed the money to prove it. According to my sources, many of Pat's clients had this saying: "You don't ask, you don't get…" Well, she learned to be bold, and she asked and received! She ran that business for over three decades through market swings and times others would have folded. But she never did — she trusted her gut, and worked like it was nobody's business. The entrepreneur in me is inspired and motivated by her every day, and I have a feeling that hustle and grit is in Giacomo's genes too.

ON being a gentleman. Learn her favorite flower. Notice the little things, and then act on them — because thoughtfulness without action is just a nice thought. Pat was incredibly thoughtful, and passed that on to your dad. He once conspired with Pat to have a custom monogrammed Loro Piana fur coat made when we were dating. That's the bar now, Giacomo. Sorry. She set it.

ON love. Love with your whole heart. Not halfway. All the way in, every time. It's the only way Pat knew how to do it, and it's why an entire room full of people are here today, all a little heartbroken, because she loved every single one of us like we were the only person in the room.

ON your mother. Call her (that's me). Every day, if you can — even if it's just thirty seconds. Pat did, without fail. Not because there was always news, but because there's always love, and love likes to check in.

ON living la dolce vita. Spend as much time as you can in the places you love, with the people you love. Don't save it for someday. Someday is not guaranteed — but Wednesday, at lunch, with the right people, absolutely is.

ON wandering. Pick a place that calls to you, and go spend a whole month there, every single year, if you can manage it. Roots are lovely. So is knowing exactly which restaurant in Yountville has your favorite bread and chardonnay.

ON eating well. On that note — eat well: salmon, steel-cut oats, the sensible things. But never forget that wine is a food group too. Pat was healthy but had the occasional dessert. Sometimes, if it was really good, she'd whisper, "This is so good, it's a mortal sin."

ON disappointment. Don't dwell on life's little letdowns. Shrug it off, and go find the next good thing. As far as Pat was concerned, if the Eagles lost, "they were just a bunch of fugazi's"… I admit, I still don't get what that means!

ON walking into a room. Light it up like everyone in it has been waiting all day just to talk with you. Pat never entered a room quietly in her life, and every room was better and much more fun because of it.

So, Giacomo — that's the playbook. I'll do my best to fill in for her. But I hope that somewhere down the road, when you meet your wife because your smile drew her in, take a trip even though you're not sure about the cost, or call your mother just to say "I love you," you'll feel her in your heart.

She's not here to say it herself anymore. So I will, on her behalf, one last time:

"You can't take it with you, sweetheart."

So spend your life well.

In loving memory of Pat Gaudini.

https://www.danjolell.com/obituary/patricia-a-burdo-gaudini/