Jake Mark Manduffie
9-12-1996 – 6-15-2021

Thirteen hours of labor followed by an emergency c-section is how Jake entered this world on September 12, 1996. His proud parents, Mark and Jennifer, welcomed their bundle of joy and began their family. Jake was a great baby. His first year was a breeze, but as soon as he could walk and talk, it was all over. Jake was fearless and disarmingly charming, even as a baby. Few could resist his eyes and smile. He was a handful in constant motion, seeking out danger at every opportunity. A typical boy, through and through.

 Jake always loved to be in the thick of things — to be center stage. He was the one who would do or try anything, even if it meant he would get hurt. He roller skated, skateboarded, was a swimmer, water polo player, ziplinner, and tried anything else with fun written on it.

Like a magnet, trouble often found Jake. Older grade school girls trying to kiss him, getting caught smoking pot at school, or trying to leave campus as a freshman with a fake school ID. Mischievous was his middle name.

Raise your hand if Jake ever annoyed you? Now, raise your hand if Jake was one of your most favorite humans? He was smart, goofy, fun, and free spirited — all the ingredients needed to become fast friends with him. But, Jake could also be hard to handle and demanding. He could wear you out and frustrate you but then turn around and laugh, and all would be good again. He never stayed mad, especially with his family.

Jake loved his little bro, Garrett. He was proud of him and bragged about him whenever given the opportunity. Jake planned on visiting Garrett in Japan and exploring other countries but Jake’s future will only live in our minds and hearts now. That’s the hardest part about a life cut short. It feels so unfinished — still so many possibilities to explore. Jake will forever be 24 years old. A handsome, sweet, giving, sometimes troubled, and true blue friend.

 As a son he was loving and affectionate. He loved hard and didn’t have an “off” button. Once he loved you, you were in his club, forever. If you were lucky enough to be loved by him, you know what I mean.

Jake loved living by the ocean. He enjoyed watching paddle boarders and sea otters eating clams in the bay. He spent a lot of his time in a hammock, listening to music, and pondering the big questions about life. He was a natural lover of people, music, and adventure. Jake was a “yes” guy in every sense. “Hey, Jake, want to go to Australia?” – “Heck ya, let’s go mate!” You could literally ask him to do anything and unless he had to work or was broke, he was down to go. He was silly, goofy, intense, and lived life to the max. He wouldn’t just ride a skateboard down the Embarcadero — he had to go find the tallest, steepest hill to carve down.

Jake thrived on excitement but could also be quiet and reflective — a deep thinker. He was super smart and very well-read but would also play video games for days. Jake was complex but a lover of friends and family. Jake lived like a rich man. He didn’t have a lot of money, but what money he did have, he would spend it on you, or an adventure, or marijuana (and he would share that, too). But during the pandemic, Jake was officially diagnosed with ADD, severe anxiety disorder, and major depression. It was a dark time for him, which also included a breakup with his first love. He dealt with the loss and moved onto a liveaboard boat in Morro Bay. He quickly started working at Dockside Too and found great bosses and a work family.

We are all still reeling from Jake’s tragic death. We are shocked, scared, and angered at the unfairness and senselessness that took him from us. We seek to make sense of this — to understand the reason why this happened. What plan could this have been a part of? What possible meaning or lesson can be gleaned from this? Well-meaning people will tell us that this was Jake’s time to go and that he is in a better place. But still, we cry out to God, knowing he has a plan. Jake may indeed be in a better place now, but we want him to be here with us.

Unfortunately, there are no easy answers, and as difficult and painful as it is, we must accept that Jake is gone. As family and friends, we express our sadness, acknowledge our loss, and believe in the great importance of Jake’s life.

There are no easy answers but there are very important questions that can be answered by looking at Jake’s life. And although we must bravely face Jake’s death, we owe it to him and to ourselves to look at the bigger picture of life. Jake would tell you to live in the moment — that tomorrow is not a given. Don’t wait to tell people how you feel or be scared of rejection. Every day offers you a new beginning and a new chance to be something different.

Live your life to the fullest in honor of Jake, and every time you watch a sunset, think of him. Jake watched more sunsets over the ocean in his 24 years than most will in a lifetime. Stop and watch the sunset — listen to the sounds of nature. That is when you’ll hear Jake whispering to you that he’s there, and that he loved you.

Jake, we were lucky to have you in our lives for 24 short years but would give anything to have you here on our Earth with us, even for just one more day. You will live in our hearts forever.