DEREK DIGREGORIO'S OBIT, WRITTEN BY HIS BROTHER ZACK
As TB saw it, Derek arrived in the next world with his wheelchair, only to have his father, who has been there, sadly, for nearly four years now, tell him "no, you won't be needing that anymore." Hearing the news, Derek then suddenly bolted, maybe a little gingerly, a little uncertain, on the first step and then immediately with the speed of the Princeton athlete he never got to be after that.
There they were, the father and son, out on a pristine grass field, sun shining, a few puffy clouds around, tossing a football, with smiles on their faces and, what word would you use? Happiness? Peace? Love? All of those and more, all melded together in a moment that TB really hoped was playing out?
Then he walked into the church — and there was Derek's wheelchair, after all these years, without Derek. Maybe TB's wish, shared by everyone else in the church, was real.
TigerBlog will leave that to theologians and those more versed in what happens when life ends. He'll stick instead to what he knows for certain, like the fact that the man those in the church said goodbye to yesterday was like no one else they'd ever met.
Derek DiGregorio passed away Thursday at the age of 27. His death was something that by all rights should have happened years ago, though like everything else in his life, Derek attacked the disease that inevitably took his life head on.
There has never been a more courageous person that TB has known than Derek DiGregorio. He was diagnosed with cerebral palsy as a toddler, but that's not what he actually had. No, it would be when he was barely past 10 that he and his family found out the truth: There was a rare disease that none of them had ever heard of called Ataxia-Telangiectasia, which affects the spine and the immune system and over time wrecks the body.
Derek would soon find himself confined to a wheelchair. Did that stop him from becoming a seven-time Tae Kown Do world champion? No. Did it stop him from using an exoskeleton to walk across the stage when he graduated from Princeton High School? No.
Did it stop him from attending countless Princeton sporting events? Or manning a booth at ComicCon? Or riding horses? Or basically doing anything else that he might have wanted to do?
Did it stop him from becoming an honorary member of the Princeton Class of 2012, for his unwavering support for the Tiger athletic teams and for the way he inspired them?
No, resoundingly — to that and anything else.
There haven't been many more sarcastic people that TB has ever met either. Even from his wheelchair, even with his speech a struggle, Derek would greet anyone and everyone with some sort of dig, or some quick comeback to whatever it was that person had said to him.
TB remembers the last time he spoke to Derek. When he was leaving, TB leaned down and gave Derek a hug and said "be good," to which Derek responded immediately: "why?"
That's who he was.
When he was first diagnosed, the life expectancy for an A-T patient his age was somewhere around 20 years old. He would have turned 28 in August.
His death hit those who were closest to him like a punch in the gut, regardless of the fact that they all knew it was coming.
Derek was the middle child of Steve and Nadia DiGregorio's three sons. They were the kind of family you couldn't help but envy, with the love they clearly shared for each other and for everyone in their orbit.
With the DiGregorio's, it was really hard to tell where family ended and friends began. They were all family, one big, caring, wonderful extended family.
And there they were yesterday, gathered in the same church they had gathered in October 2021 to say goodbye to Steve — Digger to all who knew him. Digger, who had been a longtime assistant football coach at Princeton before becoming a highly successful high school coach, passed away from pancreatic cancer after his own brave fight.
For TigerBlog, the news of Derek's passing came from Howard Levy, former Princeton men's basketball player and coach. If the DiGregorio family went well beyond its bloodlines, this has been most true in the case of the Levy family.
Howard called TB to tell him that Derek "hadn't woken up" that morning. Howard also mentioned that this was going "from the highest high to the lowest low."
The "highest high" was the wedding several days earlier of his son Lior in Israel (TB wrote about that HERE). And there they were yesterday, in a somewhat surreal manner, most of those who had just been on the tour bus 5,600 miles away, including Lior and his bride Liat.
It was the Levys, along with the DiGregorios, who dove head first into the quest to raise money towards a cure for this rare disease, one that affects only three people out of a million, one that nobody could pronounce, let alone understand.
Together, along with the help of the Princeton Athletics community, raised money, spread the word, sought out treatments, joined with others who were in the same boat. There were bike rides and silent auctions and donations gained through relentlessness. They called it "Derek's Dreams."
Out front of it all was Derek himself. No matter how much his health deteriorated, no matter the pain, no matter the intense unfairness, Derek never did anything but smile, make a joke, give a hug, say something else sarcastic.
Princeton Athletics was well-represented at the church, as you might expect. Bob Surace and Mitch Henderson were there. So was Sabrina King, the women's volleyball coach. Kim Meszaros, a Senior Associate Athletic Director, came, as did Stacie Traube of the football office and Keith Elias (his name should be familiar). Don Dobes, the Dartmouth defensive coordinator who at one time shared an office with Digger when they were both on the Tiger staff, was also there.
Aaron spoke first about his brother, with the anguish he felt evident with every word he said. He spoke from the heart, talking about their shared experiences and about the love and respect he felt for Derek.
And then Zack, the oldest brother, spoke. Sadly, just as he did at his father's funeral, Zack proved again that nobody can deliver a eulogy like he can, even if you'd rather not know you have that ability.
With each word Zack said, Derek's face came into clearer focus. Zack talked about community, and how Derek was the keystone of the DiGregorio community. It was, just as it had been nearly four years earlier, mesmerizing, impressive, emotional and ultimately, well, perfect.
And what of Nadia, who has now lost a husband and a son? She had a sling on her arm, something about a dislocated elbow. Nadia has the inner strength of 10 people. How could she not, what with everything that has come her way? She is a marvel.
Hopefully now she can find her own peace, which is something that Zack talked about as well. Nadia has been Derek's primary caretaker. Now is the time for her to move forward, knowing that she did everything she could and that nobody could have ever done better.
It won't be easy. It won't be easy for anyone who ever knew Derek, for that matter.
Pretty much everyone TB spoke with mirrored what TB said — Derek and Digger were now together. As TB left the Alchemist and Barrister, site of the luncheon after the funeral, he began to head back up Nassau Street to his car.
By the time he passed St. Paul's again, he was pretty much lost in his thoughts, about the DiGregorios, about Derek, about Digger (about whom TB once wrote "If he could be more like Digger, then he'd be a better person).
In his mind now he saw the father and son. Derek was holding the football. He was telling his father to go deep. No, deep. Deeper. Deeper.
Ultimately, Digger realized that he'd be had by his son. Derek was still holding the ball, laughing, with no intention of launching it.
From 50 yards away, Digger yelled back "be good."
And Derek's response was simple: "Why?"
TigerBlog smiled. Then he wiped away a tear.
Goodbye Derek. TB is just one of the many people you touched.
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