Kind, compassionate, caring, funny and sincere
Andrew had always been an active child–fishing, swimming, doing anything–and if he wasn’t playing sports himself, he was watching sports. It was how he and his mother Sandra bonded: Red Sox games, Patriots’ practices, watching the Red Sox’s World Series in 2004, celebrating Patriots’ Super Bowl wins. One of his most prized possessions was an autographed photo of his all-time favorite player, Carlton Fiske, hitting a home run.
The only thing that surpassed Andrew’s love of sports was his love for family. Andrew and Sandra both cherished their close relationship. Every week, she could rely on Andrew to call her and ask, “Ma, what’re you making for Sunday dinner?” It was a dynamic that he was eager to share with his own son, Jameson–the light of his life and his greatest accomplishment. Andrew spent most of his free time with Jameson, be it just cuddling to watch TV together, or trying to teach him how to ride a bike on the playground.
“The day of his son’s christening, Andrew was beaming,” Sandra said. “He was so proud to be a dad. I don’t think I ever saw him as happy as that day.”
Though he and Jameson’s mother, Victoria, were not together, it was important to Andrew that they remained good friends to raise Jameson together. To Andrew, friendship was just as important as family. He put others before himself and expected nothing in return. After his passing, many shared that Andrew had never given up on them. One even stated Andrew was the reason that he has not used substances to this day. “If Andrew was your friend, he was your friend for life,” Sandra said.
Andrew’s love did not stop at his family and closest friends; he was a friend to anyone who needed it. He worked at McDonald’s, Dunkin’ Donuts, and P.F. Chang’s, and made sure anyone in need of food knew that they could come to him if they couldn’t pay. When he wasn’t working, he volunteered at shelters and soup kitchens.
Andrew’s loveable, magnetic personality became more unpredictable after he began using substances. His mood changed drastically; he became combative and nasty at times. He lived with the disease for sixteen years, but turned a corner in 2018, where he maintained recovery for 22 months. Unfortunately, one last time was all it took. He passed away when Jameson was five years old, and before he could meet his second son, Declan.
The year before Andrew passed, at around one o’clock in the morning on Thanksgiving Day, Sandra awoke to Andrew yelling that the kitchen was on fire. When she flew downstairs, she found smoke, pieces of Pyrex, pumpkin pie, and steak all over the kitchen. Andrew had a habit of sleepwalking. He’d mistaken the pie cooling on the stovetop as a pan, slapped a package of shaved steak on top of it, turned on the range, and awoke to the bang. As he and Sandra cleaned up the mess, they began laughing. It was so nice to have the old Andrew back.
“It was the first Thanksgiving in a few years that he was home to celebrate with me, so we did not let that ruin it,” Sandra said. “We cleaned up the mess, went to bed, and told the story the next day at dinner. I wish he was here to celebrate Thanksgiving again. I wouldn’t care if he ruined another ten pies.”
Andrew’s mother, Sandra Spadafora, provided the information for this narrative.
May 12, 1986 – September 22, 2019 – Age 33
Portrait Artist: Elizabeth Jones
Narrative Writer: Angela Day
