Our lives were better because of our dear friend Pete Sgro, Jr.

I had the privilege of spending hours at a time face to face or on the phone with Pete Sgro before his sickness drew life and lucidity out of him. We at Kandit loved him very much.

I knew Pete’s great love was his grandson. I didn’t know which one, but he always talked about his grandson. He would drop everything he was doing as soon as his son Christopher messaged that his boy was ready.

The glimmer in Pete’s eyes could light a ballroom as soon as he would start talking about his daughter Maria and how she was going to be a doctor. He was so proud of how smart she is. In between late night Kings Restaurant or in-the-office pizza conversations about politics and the church and everything in between, Pete told me about the beautiful moments he experienced with each of his children, Chris, Matt, Katarina, and Maria.

And he loved their mother, his ex-wife, Kathy. I got the sense that of all 7 billion people in this world, Pete respected no one greater than he did Kathy.

He was grateful to his parents for the good life they gave he and his sister Florence and brothers Tony and John. He didn’t say much of his mother except that she was a “saint.” He adored his dad. He admired his rise from rags to riches and his dedication to the church. He loved that his sister was devoted to helping others through social work. He would cry whenever he would tell the story of how John became his brother.

“I love my brother, Tony,” Pete would say either as a statement or as a qualifier to a tale of their brotherly quarrels. When they worked together they were a powerful force. Tony shielded his little brother, while Pete worked that mind of his to produce what no one else could.

It’s a mind that developed Guam’s only private hospital and left behind a blueprint for a hospital for women and children, a veteran’s hospital, and another general hospital. His favorite governor (aside from his father-in-law Paul Calvo and his brother-in-law Eddie Calvo) was Carl Gutierrez. Among Pete’s favorite stories is the weekend Carl Gutierrez – then governor – called him and together they successfully challenged the federal government in federal court for access to Ritidian.

Pete loved helping the underdog. He loved to bully the bullies. The first time I met him, I was only 16. It was 1996 and my school sent me to be the student representative to the Catholic Pro-Life Committee. At that first meeting I went to, there were only six or seven of us. Two of the people were Pete and Kathy. I remember Pete vividly. He was engulfed with flames of passion for being a voice for the voiceless.

“To hell with Roe v. Wade,” this lawyer said in 1995 at a conference room in the Chancery near the archbishop’s residence. “It’s just a matter of time before the Supreme Court reverses that decision.” I remember this well. It took nearly three decades, but he was right.

In between all that was his career in law and several developments, real estate solutions, and finance deals he brokered. That was Pete’s thing. He could turn any problem into a solution no one saw coming, even when no one else knew there was even a problem to be solved.

Pete was very proud of his political, business and legal accomplishments, and rightfully so. But, in my opinion, those were not his greatest.

This is the part of the testimony not many people may know about.

Pete was a very kind and generous man who did not speak much about his charity toward others. He would buy meals for complete strangers he thought were hungry. A little girl needed specialty care in the Philippines, and he coordinated almost the entire visit and donated money for the family’s stay. He even donated to a poor rural village in the Philippines to build a basketball court and have some other amenities for the kids there. These are three of what I am sure are a lifetime of charity to hundreds, if not thousands of people.

Our dear friend was a man of charity. He was a God-fearing man. He was unafraid to challenge bullies so long as he was helping someone underserved, underprivileged, or simply the underdog.

Pete had this great laugh. My smile is from ear to ear as I think of it now. It was this open chuckle followed by a giggle that came before rolling shoulders and a seemingly endless half cackle-half giggle.

I refuse to believe anything less than that in his final seconds of life, he reconciled his human and earthly shortcomings with the mercy of the Lord, asked to be received into His loving arms, and is now being rewarded for that charity he gave and the joy he brought upon so many of us with eternal life and rest.

Because Pete is the kind of person who I like to believe survives in eternity as a guardian angel.