By Orly Benaroch Light

Not long ago, I sat in a room remembering my friend Hortencia Manzano Mammen, who we lost far too soon after multiple health challenges. She was only 59.

We met in 2020 while her husband was volunteering for the presidential campaign. We would hold potluck meetings at her beautiful home, always decorated with a festive theme.

Hortencia had a sparkle—an energy and warmth that drew people in. She had a way of making everyone feel special, like they truly mattered.

Now she's gone, and I am left sitting, thinking.

What struck me most at her memorial wasn’t what people said—it was what they didn’t say. Despite being a successful entrepreneur, few mentioned her work, titles, or business wins. Instead, they spoke about her kindness, her light, and how she made people feel seen, valued, and loved.

A wonderful mom, wife, sister, and friend—but first and foremost, generous, creative, and gracious. That’s what everyone remembered. She always said being a mom was the greatest joy in her life, and she lived it fully every day. Her kids carry so much of her with them now—they are her legacy.

Her loss was felt deeply by everyone who knew her, and it made me pause to reflect on my own life and what truly matters. At an age where there’s more past than future, I began thinking about David Brooks’ The Road to Character and his idea of “résumé virtues” versus “eulogy virtues”—the accomplishments we boast about versus the character we leave behind.

Résumé virtues are the things we brag about—accomplishments, skills, and titles; eulogy virtues are who we are: our kindness, integrity, and the mark we leave on others.

I know I was a good mom. But lately, I’ve wondered: am I living in a way that reflects the kind of eulogy résumé I’d be proud of?

I had a good career in travel and tourism before my kids. Then I put it on hold to raise them—something I've never regretted. When they reached their early teens, I started my own business.

I remember the conference calls, the juggling between work and family, the “vacations” that weren’t restful at all. My kids complained. I’d pause, trying to focus on them—but the next call always pulled me back.

Did I show up for them the way I wanted to? Will they remember my love, or that I was always distracted?

After selling my company, I realized something important: even when work is fulfilling, it does not truly build eulogy virtues. Professional roles are temporary. Once we leave a company or team, our formal role ends, and many colleagues move on with their own lives.

The problem is, the world doesn’t teach us this. We’re told to chase promotions and recognition. But the chase never ends; there’s always another ladder, another goal.

Our inner lives, meanwhile, are quietly pushed aside. What we need to keep remembering over and over is that real success isn’t about accolades, money, or prestige. It’s about fulfillment. It’s about growing, being kind, showing gratitude. It’s about leaving something good behind. And no matter how old we are, it’s never too late to change, to make a difference, to build a lasting legacy.

Amazing people don’t just happen. They’re shaped by what they go through, by their compassion, and by the choices they make every single day to live with intention and grace.

So I’ll leave you with this question: which virtues are you building your life around—the résumé, or the eulogy?

And to my friend Hortencia, rest in power. Your eulogy résumé is an inspiration to everyone you touched.