How a URMC Tech Found Purpose After Shocking Loss

There’s a certain kind of pain that comes from losing someone who knew your entire story, someone who helped write the earliest chapters. Jeff and Amanda Civiletti met in high school and spent 20 years building a life full of love, family, and shared struggles. Then everything changed one recent morning with Amanda’s sudden, unexpected passing.

It left Jeff with a void no answers could fill. But her legacy remains in his life direction that she had helped inspire—a meaningful career that has been one of the things carrying him forward.

The URMC career that would sustain Jeff through his darkest days began with a simple conversation. One day, after Jeff had worked another 11-hour shift selling phones at the mall, Amanda—a registered nurse at URMC—told him she knew he was capable of more and meant for more. She just had to help him see it.

“She saw that I was a really good person, that I cared for people, and that I always put others—like she did—before myself,” he said. In his patience with customers, his calm during stressful moments, and his instinct to make people feel heard, she saw the qualities of someone who could excel in healthcare. “She pushed me to do more, to use my qualities of helping others and being caring to hopefully make a difference in someone’s life.”

With her encouragement, Jeff returned to college and earned his associate degree in healthcare studies at Monroe Community College. He joined URMC in 2014 as an ambulatory tech in medical specialties, gaining hands-on experience and building a solid foundation in patient care.

As Jeff grew in the role, he began looking for new challenges and greater responsibility, and her steady support helped him take that step. He transitioned into pulmonary critical care, where he has spent the past 11 years as a procedure technologist, excelling in a role that combines technical expertise with an impact on people.

Today, Jeff assists with robotic bronchoscopies, handles tissue samples that may diagnose lung cancer, and supports patients during some of their most vulnerable moments.

“I like that I play a vital role in a patient’s journey—whether it’s a new diagnosis or a recurrence,” he said. The job Amanda urged him toward became exactly the one he needed.

While Jeff’s career was taking shape, his life with Amanda was growing just as meaningfully. After years of infertility struggles, they welcomed their daughter, Analia, in 2017. Hopes for a second child never materialized, but through it all, they had each other—and they were happy.

Then, on April 18, 2025, just weeks from her 38th birthday, everything changed. Jeff went to wake Amanda for work and found her unresponsive. Despite his training as a volunteer EMT and doing everything he could, Amanda was gone. The autopsy offered no answers. “I don’t know why or how,” Jeff said.

At home with Analia that morning, a planned family trip was quietly cancelled, and Jeff was left with a terrible grief—and questions that would never be answered.

In the days and weeks after Amanda’s death, Jeff wrestled with a single question: How do you move forward when the person who shared your future is gone? The grief felt suffocating, and time moved slowly.

“I could have been out [of work] a lot longer, but just sitting at home, waiting for the next thing to keep my mind or body busy—it felt good to come back earlier than I planned,” he said.

Returning to work was not just about staying occupied. It was a way to honor Amanda’s example. “No matter what she was going through, my wife went to work every day. She made a difference. She smiled.”

Now, Jeff does the same. “I come to work every day, even if I’m feeling depressed or didn’t sleep well. I put on a smile and try to make a difference.” The career she encouraged had become his lifeline.

In caring for others during their most vulnerable moments, Jeff found a way to navigate his own grief. Work gave him purpose, connection, and the reminder that showing up matters.

Just weeks after Jeff’s return to work, a patient reaffirmed that truth. Through conversation and music, Jeff helped calm the man’s nerves before a bronchoscopy. Following a lung cancer diagnosis and the death of his wife, the patient asked Jeff to be a part of his ongoing treatment as he continued his care in Pulmonary.

“This was probably the second or third week after I returned to work,” Jeff said. “It just felt good to make a difference again.” And in supporting this family through their loss, he found a way to work on processing his own.

“No matter what I’m going through, I try to make a difference—whether it’s a quick hello in the hallway or a four-hour procedure,” Jeff said. “My old assistant nurse manager used to call me a scarecrow because I looked after everyone,” Jeff said. “Bringing a calming effect—that’s something my wife always saw in me.” In his work, he honors both the career she envisioned and the values she lived.

As Jeff navigates his own grief, he also guides his seven-year-old daughter through hers—a delicate balance of processing loss while remaining her steady anchor.

“My daughter has been really strong. I don’t know if I would’ve been like that at 7 years old,” he said. With support from school counselors and family, Analia has slowly opened up. In many ways, she is just like her mother, Jeff said. “She’s very caring. She always puts other people before herself.”

Jeff is intentional about the language he uses when talking about grief. There is an important distinction he wants to make clear. “Not moved on, but moved forward with how I approach things,” he said.

Moving on would mean leaving Amanda behind. Moving forward means carrying everything she gave him—her vision, her values, her encouragement—into each new day.

Jeff's strength comes from the support system around him, those who have surrounded him and Analia with love. "I can't thank my family, my friends, URMC enough for helping us throughout these last six, seven months."

That support will be especially crucial in the months ahead. "I know the holidays are going to be horrible, but we're looking forward to just spending time with our family," he says. His father is coming from North Carolina to stay with them for Christmas.

By sharing his story, Jeff hopes to create meaning from loss. “If it touches one person—or many—or inspires someone to do something different with their life, or be kinder, or be a better co-worker, I’ve accomplished what I want.”