A life defined by resiliency, courage
For much of his life, Frank Leone had to fight.
Diagnosed at a young age with primary sclerosing cholangitis — a disease in which inflammation causes scars within the bile ducts of the liver — Mr. Leone endured medical hardships that regularly tested his strength. At age 40, he had a liver transplant. About 25 years later, he had liver and kidney transplants.
Beneath that steely resolve and toughness was a warm and gentle soul. Mr. Leone never allowed those hardships to mar the kindness and eternal optimism that guided him throughout his life until he died of COVID-19 on May 2 at UPMC Presbyterian. He was 69.
“My brother had a lot of battles,” said Michele Leone, the youngest of his three sisters. “He fought them all with grace and courage.”
A graduate of Duquesne University, where he earned a degree in accounting, Mr. Leone, a Franklin Park resident, worked briefly as a certified public accountant before spending much of his professional life as a consultant for IBM. His job required him to travel, taking him to various corners of the world, but his heart always remained at home and with those closest to him.
To those in his family, Mr. Leone was a softhearted, considerate man with a witty sense of humor, even when misfortune could have prevented him from personifying such traits.
His generosity was regularly on display, whether it was for a family member or a relative stranger. The lone son in a proud Italian family, Mr. Leone purchased a home for his parents, grateful for them saving up earlier in his life to send him to Duquesne. Many years ago, as home computers were becoming more commonplace, he bought one for each of his sisters, believing it would be an important tool for them.
As a co-worker of his sister, Joan Fuze, was about to undergo a surgical procedure that Mr. Leone also had experienced, he served as a valuable resource for a woman he had never previously met, offering guidance and even connecting her with the doctor who had performed his operation.
“He always watched out for us, always took care of us and was always there for us,” Ms. Fuze said. “He truly epitomized what a brother should be.”
Those same people for whom Mr. Leone had done so much stood by his side as he battled for his life on several occasions.
His first liver transplant was a trying ordeal, due in some part to the relatively young age at which he went through it. As the years passed, his new liver deteriorated, and the immunosuppressants he took to preserve his liver had damaging effects on his kidney. Because of that, he was simultaneously in need of two new organs. His family worked to publicize his plight and let others know of his need. Eventually, he found donors, and both his liver and kidney were replaced in Indianapolis in 2018.
After those operations, both completed within a period of three days, he displayed that remarkable strength his family had come to know. Within two days, he was able to sit upright in a chair.
“He was sick his whole life, but you never would have known it,” Ms. Leone said. “He was so resilient.”
Throughout his life, Mr. Leone intently educated himself about his disease and the various hardships it presented, learning effectively everything he could about it. In some instances, it provided levity in moments that offered little of it.
“We would tease him all the time: ‘Are you going to perform the transplant? Are you going to tell them what to do while they’re working on you?’ ” Ms. Fuze said.
In retirement, Mr. Leone settled into a relatively normal, comfortable life. Much like his mother, he loved to cook, with Ms. Leone counting his spaghetti sauce, chili, ribs and steak among her personal favorites. He found solace on his pontoon boat on Lake Latonka in Mercer County. Although he didn’t perform at dances and weddings with his band as he did when he was younger, he maintained a passion for the guitar.
Mr. Leone began feeling ill and checked into the hospital on March 22, where he would remain for the next six weeks. During that time, Ms. Leone and Ms. Fuze, unable to be by their brother’s side, said they would conduct video calls with Mr. Leone, trying to provide him with some sense of company.
“I hope he knew we were with him,” Ms. Fuze said. “I hope he never thought that he was by himself. That’s the heartbreak, I think, in this situation.”
By late April, his condition worsened, with doctors telling the family two days before his death he didn’t have much longer to live. Ms. Leone called the morning of May 2 and, after being informed of her brother’s still-declining state, had a nurse put a phone to Mr. Leone’s ear. In that conversation, she told him all the things she hoped she could — what a wonderful brother and son he had been and how proud he had made everyone he knew.
“It took everything I had, but I said at the end, ‘We want you to go have some peace now. You deserve to rest. We want you to have some peace. I love you,’ ” Ms. Leone said.
Shortly after those words, Ms. Leone asked a nurse if her brother was able to hear her. “Yes,” she recalled the nurse saying, “I believe he did.” The nurse added that her voice would be the last one Mr. Leone would ever hear. He had just passed away.
As Mr. Leone’s family grieves, it is left with not only memories of him but also remnants of the man they loved so dearly. There’s a card Ms. Leone keeps in her home, given to her by her brother for her 41st birthday.
“Dear Michele,” the card reads, “here at your 41st year of life, I recall so many fond memories of our shared life, how proud of you I am and how I can always count on you when I’m in need. I’m so flattered about your pride in me. You and I will always have a special bond that goes back to the day you were born. Remember I will always love you, and you can always count on me when you’re in need.”
It’s a reminder of the thoughtfulness and empathy she and others came to know well and cherish.
“We could just look at each other and know what the other one was thinking and saying,” Ms. Leone said. “He would always say to me that we have a bond that you never have to worry will be broken.”