“Son. Brother. Badass.” That was the epitaph on Bart Simpson’s gravestone in an episode we watched with our father one night after dinner years ago. More fitting on his own would read: “Son. Brother. Father. Husband. Mentor. Inspiration. Badass.”

He was 50 years old, an adoring husband of 21 years, and a father of two sons for (a cumulative) 30 years when he passed suddenly on Sept. 13, 2024. He grew up in Glen Cove, Long Island, alongside his three siblings – attended Vassar College – then Yale’s Business School – and lived in Guilford for over 15 years. Throughout his life, Justin’s mother, an avid reader and writer, and his father, an incredible artist, cultivated a curiosity in Justin that would permeate everything he did. He worked as an insurance executive managing products, which helped and supported millions of people across America during the times following the worst days of their lives.

Though this was Justin Manning’s life, this was not what he lived for.

Our Justin lived for people and ideas, fueled by an ardent curiosity. He lived to whiteboard with his colleagues all day, laughing as they bounced thoughts to and from each other until those thoughts ended up as beautiful, absurd diagrams that somehow “made it all make sense.” He lived to sit down at the dinner table (every night of every week) and talk and listen to his wife and two sons, who knew that he loved them more than anything in the universe. Then, the four of them would cuddle up in the den to watch their TV show of the month but pausing constantly to hear one of them share a new thought or a different joke from the day that hadn’t come up at the dinner table. That was how Justin Manning lived – spending every possible second of his days talking and laughing and listening with the people he loved.

And holy cow, there were a lot of people he loved.

Justin recognized your humanity. He saw the humanity in everyone he met, and he respected it with dignity above anything else. Any relationship with Justin made you realize that you are valued and loved not because of what you bring to the table but instead because some higher being created you, and now you can be loved, and you are so much to love. This truth that Justin saw in everyone and that was bound to his soul made countless people feel safe and respected around him, and this allowed the creation of the relationships that he lived for. You feel safe to share ideas and jokes with Justin, and you feel loved.

He was so talented and brilliantly gifted that Justin’s epitaph could have read anything: “CEO. Billionaire. Mark Twain Prize Winner. Host of Weekend Update. Fighter Pilot. CIA Operative.” But because he was humble beyond words, those titles aren’t what he ever wanted. Instead, he wanted as much time sitting at the kitchen table or on the couch, talking for hours. He wanted to drive his son to the bus stop and laugh on the way. He wanted to sit by the fire talking to his son late into the night. He wanted to sit on the beach with his wife and hear everything on her mind. And he did, so he died a badass.

Friends were invited to calling hours on Sept. 19 at the Guilford Funeral Home, 115 Church Street, Guilford. A Mass of Christian burial will be celebrated at 10:30 a.m. on Friday, Sept. 20, at St. George Church, 33 Whitfield Street, Guilford. Burial will follow at North Guilford Cemetery, 159 Ledge Hill Road, Guilford.