We often measure one’s success in life by the wealth they’ve accumulated or the position they held on the corporate ladder. We’ve come to idolize sports and entertainment figures, or those we feel can benefit us as we try to attain success. But is that really the meaning of a “life well lived?” To some, it may be.

Maybe it was during the sweet innocence of my childhood when we were aware of some of the positions or wealth those around us had, but for some reason, we saw them as peers or equals. We didn’t judge them on their financial statements; we just knew them as friends.

Summers were always the time of year I looked most forward to. We water-skied, swam, went to the beach, played golf, camped out, played hours of flashlight tag, and even snuck out at night just to talk about our day even more. As I’ve grown older, I think of those fond memories, but I realize even more that it was the close friends I had who made those moments in time so special.

Moving to Florida has been a continuation of those special friendships and moments similar to the enjoyment of those early childhood years. While some activities have changed, the spirited banter has remained the same. One couple who have become our close friends are Greg and Toni White. Both had very successful corporate positions, but like those I grew up with, they were more interested in celebrating their friendships than talking about their accomplishments. While very talented, the contagiousness of their personalities appeals to so many, but it doesn’t end there.

Several years ago, Toni approached me to help her find a home for her mother, Lin, a widow living in California. While she loved her life in California, Toni felt that her mom was getting older, and it made more sense to have her move closer to her. She quickly became part of a group of friends we met at St. Andrew’s South Golf Club, a course in the heart of the waterfront community of Punta Gorda Isles. Unlike most women her age, Lin, or as many of her close friends who affectionately called her “Mumsie,” became part of the gang and attended most of the club’s social events.

Linda Warwick was born in 1934 and grew up in the east end of London, living with her grandparents, parents, and three uncles in a small home. The east end of London was where the docks were located, and the River Thames ran behind their house. As a young child, factories were turning into munitions plants before her eyes, and a few short years later, the U.K. entered the war. It would be hard for anyone at five or six years of age living in the United States to appreciate the ravages of war. Still, with London being one of the largest cities in the world at that time and home to the British Empire, it became a vital target of the German Wehrmact, (armed forces). On September 7, 1940, later known as “Black Sunday,” the Germans unleashed their fury in a blitzkrieg (lightning war) with 300 bombers targeting London in the first of 57 consecutive nights that continued for the next eight months. Forced to find shelter any way they could, homes in their community were being destroyed, and with the continuous sound of gunfire and sirens echoing in their ears, it was a sobering reminder that their home could be next. Like so many others, they became “evacuees” and retreated to the safety of the countryside, having to, at times, share a home with other displaced families. While it appeared to offer a safer environment, they could see the glowing fires from the bombing raids in the various towns and cities from afar.

As a young child, she experienced the worst and best life had to offer. Despite the war’s displacement and hardship on her family, Linda recalled those beautiful memories of taking walks in the countryside. She will never forget the day the King and Queen of England came to the area they were living in to show empathy as Buckingham Palace had also been bombed.

Throughout this time, Linda’s father worked as a fireman in London and occasionally would get leave to visit his family. She said he worked long hours in the east end of London, called “Mile End.” Eventually, he was offered a dilapidated house next to a factory, and while there were only three remaining homes on the street, the rest being destroyed from the continual bombing, they were thrilled to be back together under one roof. With the bombing subsiding as the focal point of the war moved away from the city, Linda and her new friends returned to school and recalled the kindness of the teachers who would give up their free time to take the children on hikes or create some diversion to take their minds off the war, which was never far away and often sent them to air raid shelters. Teachers were called into service, and Linda recalled that 25 children from her school were killed during that time.

With the German front moving to the desert and Russia, curfews were being lifted, and the children were allowed to stay out and play for extended periods of time. A community pool was reopened, and Linda’s school was due to go the following day when the wailing sounds of an air raid siren sent Linda and her family scrambling through the adjoining factory for safety as the sound of bombs could be heard all around. Once the attack subsided, her dad went out to check the destruction only to come back a short while later saying their family home had been destroyed; in fact, most of the remaining homes in the community lay in ruins.

Despite the heartache of war, Linda recalls those special moments during the war when friends, relatives, and teachers would give of themselves to make sure the children were spared as much of the horrors of the war as possible. Later on in life, Linda would reflect on how resilient, tenacious, and determined they were not only to survive but to restore their country to its glory once again.

After graduating high school, Linda became a library assistant at the University of London. She then eventually moved to Canada, where she and her husband were married in Toronto in 1954. They moved to the United States in 1963, where Linda worked as a secretary, and Ron accepted a job as a sound engineer, which he enjoyed for almost 30 years. After Ron’s passing, Linda’s daughter Toni suggested Linda move closer to where she lived, as her brother was also living in Florida.

It’s hard to imagine the scars of war, but like service members who have fought together or those who have come from the oppression of their homelands, they have a greater appreciation for the simple things we take for granted. Linda was one of those people, and her biggest fear, she shared with her daughter, was not the move but whether she was going to be able to make new friends.

Years ago, I had a middle school teacher tell our class how fortunate we would be if we could count on one hand the number of close friends we had. As Lin was approaching her 90th birthday on July 25th, Toni and her husband Greg were planning a surprise birthday party for her at a local restaurant, to which almost 100 of her closest friends were invited. Unfortunately, five days prior to her celebrated day, she passed away.

To some, this would be a sad way to end such a story, but like many things in life, lessons are learned from our most difficult experiences. Lin’s story doesn’t end with her passing, but the 90th birthday surprise that became her Celebration of Life, where stories were shared by so many whose lives were impacted by her. The story best told was by her daughter Toni, who recalled having past boyfriends show up unannounced at their home when she was getting ready to go out on a date. When asked what they were doing there, they would reply, “We didn’t come to see you; we came to see your mother!”

Like so many others, we will miss her contagious smile, the kind words she had for others, and seeing her at many social events at the club. She made the most of her friendships and earned the love of many. Lin is a reminder of what is essential in life and what a “life well lived” really means. It’s not about who has the most toys that wins; it is the impact one’s life has on others. In this challenging world in which we live today, Lin was the sugar that made each day a bit sweeter.

-Gary Cardillo