24 Aug Remembering Robert: The Smile We’ll Never Forget
If you knew Robert, chances are he made you smile. He certainly made us smile — and our lives are richer having known him.
Robert Bagdonas passed away on August 20, 2026, at the age of 48.
For those of us who had the privilege of knowing Robert, that simple sentence is difficult to write. Robert was a familiar and much-loved presence throughout our special needs community here in The Villages, usually alongside his devoted mom, Julia.
Getting to know Robert
Our dear friend Debbie J. said it best in a tribute email to the community a few days ago: “If Robert was your friend, you knew it.”
She was so right.
He would light up and smile when he saw you. He’d call out your name as if you were the person he’d been waiting all day to see. There was such pure joy in his excitement to see you.
That was one of Robert’s gifts. Without even trying, he had a way of making the people around him feel special.
For reasons I can’t explain, Robert and I just clicked. He and I shared one of those friendships that didn’t need a lot of words. A big hug — high fives — sometimes many high fives and hugs. Often mixed in with me asking him about his dog, Mia, or his favorite team, “Da Bears!”
Robert was deeply involved in activities he enjoyed. His mom made sure he lived his life to the fullest. Robert had many friends throughout the community and loved spending time with them whenever he had the chance.
Ruth, Kevin and I split our time between The Villages and Michigan throughout the year, so we didn’t get to see Robert as frequently as we would have liked. Despite the often months-long gaps between Florida trips, seeing Robert out in the community again was like experiencing Christmas morning. Surprise, excitement, and simply the joy of being together again — even if only briefly.
Our times together, while often just for short moments, were a reminder that a meaningful friendship isn’t measured by how much time you spend together.
Knowing Robert reminded me that life’s most meaningful moments are often the simplest ones — and we need to savor them while we can.
Subtle Changes
Because we were often back in Michigan for months at a time, we weren’t always in Florida to witness firsthand the gradual changes in Robert’s mobility and cognitive abilities.
I first sensed that something had changed when I noticed that Robert and his mom were now getting around The Villages by car. That may not sound particularly significant, but for Julia and Robert, it was.
I used to joke with Julia that the two of them were the poster children for golf cart travel in The Villages. They went everywhere in that golf cart, usually regardless of the distance or the weather forecast.
So when the golf cart rides became car rides, it was a subtle change — but one that caught my attention.
Thankful for the recent times together
I only had the opportunity to see Robert a few times this year, but each was a special moment I’ll always remember.
In early February at the annual Tim Tebow ‘Night to Shine’ prom, I once again roamed the ballroom as a volunteer writer and photographer so I could publish an article about this amazing evening afterwards.
There, in the middle of the festivities, I spotted Robert, sitting alongside his devoted sister Catherine, who was his prom buddy for the evening. I wasn’t sure what kind of response to expect, as I had recently heard from his mom that Robert’s reactions and cognition were continuing to decline.
Robert initially had a look of surprise, maybe even a brief moment of confusion, but then his face lit up with that familiar big smile, and I got the response from him that always melted my heart. “Mike! Mike!” Robert yelled. And we embraced in a warm hug.
Here’s the brief clip from that special moment, which still melts my heart:
The feature photo at the top of this article was a picture I snapped of Robert minutes after this video. He was one sharp-dressed man that night, with a million-dollar smile to boot.
In early June, I had the pleasure of seeing Robert at a Fantastic Friends picnic. I could tell he was slowing down a bit more, but our encounter was just as warm. We exchanged some high-fives and banter.
Kevin joined in on the action, too, leaning toward Robert from time to time to offer a high-five of his own. Those moments always make me especially proud of Kevin because engaging with others doesn’t always come naturally to him. It was a simple moment between friends — but looking back now, one I’m especially grateful to have witnessed.
There were a couple of other times when Ruth, Kevin and I had a chance to catch up with Robert and his mom after a meeting. Ruth deeply enjoyed those moments as well — simple visits that mean so much more to us now. One of those gatherings included a Zumba session — lots of music, movement, laughter and fun shared with Robert and so many of our special friends and caregiver parents.
One last visit
In mid-July, we were wrapping up our latest trip to Florida. We had enjoyed time with our four grandkids, always filled with fun moments, and were now cleaning the house and packing for our trip back to Michigan.
Then I received a text from Julia. Robert’s health challenges were increasing, and he had been placed under palliative care at home. The news was a jolt of sad reality. I knew Robert had been struggling, but this felt different.
We were heading to Michigan the next day, but we knew we wanted to see our friend before we left. We decided that I would go see Robert on my own. We weren’t sure how Kevin might handle the situation, and more importantly, we didn’t want to overwhelm Robert or his family.
My visit was brief but powerful. I knew there was a chance it might be the last time I’d see Robert. It was one more chance to share a hug, hold his hand, comment on his Bears jersey — and yes, I got one more smile and one more “Mike!” when he realized who I was.
We are ALL Family
Our deepest condolences go out to Robert’s entire family, and especially to his mom, Julia.
For so many years, Julia was Robert’s fiercest advocate, his protector, his caregiver, his companion — and above all, his mom. She made sure Robert was included, involved and given every opportunity to live his life to the fullest.
Julia, we can only imagine how different the days ahead will feel without Robert by your side. Our hope is that, in time and whenever you are ready, you will find some comfort and strength in the special community that you and Robert were such an important part of for so many years.
You may have lost your partner on those countless golf cart rides, your companion at meetings and activities, and the young man whose smile could light up a room — but you haven’t lost the family that surrounded both of you.
We are still here. We are ALL family. That is what I’ve always felt makes The Villages unique. And Robert will always be part of our family.
Rest peacefully, my friend. ❤️