Debra Ann “Debby” Mangione

Debra Ann “Debby” Mangione, born Garcia, was born on November 17, 1956, in New York. She grew up in Queens, New York, and passed away peacefully in her home on August 16, 2026, at 69 years young.

Debby was the daughter of Robert “Poppy” Lotito and Alma “Nana” Lotito. She is survived by her father, Poppy, and her brothers Steve and Stanley. She was preceded in death by her mother, Nana, and her brother Dennis.

At the time of her passing, Debby was married to her husband, Agostino Mangione. Debby and Agostino married in May 1998 and built a life together centered around home and family. She was previously married to Michael Bigini, with whom she had her two sons, Paul Bigini and Thomas Bigini.

Debby was a proud and loving grandmother to Dylan, Savannah, Sierra, Carter, and Zoe, as well as a great-grandmother to Cariana. Being a mother and grandmother was one of the greatest parts of her life. She had a special way of making sure none of her grandchildren ever felt overlooked. She gave each of them her attention and love equally, and each knew how much their grandmother loved them.

Debby grew up in Queens and later earned an associate degree. She spent many years working in the school system, serving in several roles throughout her career, including a health aide and principal’s secretary. She loved her work, but perhaps what she loved most about it was the opportunity it gave her to be close to her children while they were growing up and attending school.

If you knew Debby, you knew that family came before just about everything. She was loving, thoughtful, generous, outspoken, stubborn, protective, goofy, and a genuinely kind soul (except with telemarketers and solitictors). She loved making people smile and laugh, and she had nicknames for the people she loved. She was fiercely protective of her sons and nearly as protective of her dogs.

Debby was a homebody, and there was nowhere she would rather be than in her own house with the people and animals she loved nearby. For many years, nearly every Saturday meant movie night with the family. She loved movies and dramatic television, especially Lifetime. She loved all kinds of music and absolutely loved to dance. It didn't matter whether anyone else was dancing—Debby was always willing to get up, be goofy, have fun, and make everyone around her smile.

She wasn't much of a sports fan. If she had to pick a team to root for, her decision wasn't based on statistics, standings, or who had the better players. She was more likely to choose a winner based on which team had the better-looking uniforms—or which players had the nicest butts. That was Debby: she could find a way to make even something she wasn't interested in entertaining.

At home, Agostino did the cooking and Debby did the cleaning. When asked about her favorite food, the answer could simply have been anything her husband made. Their home was where Debby was happiest, especially when it was filled with family.

Christmas was particularly special to her. More than any gift or tradition, what mattered was having everyone together. That desire to have family nearby shaped much of Debby's life. After her sons moved to Texas, Debby soon followed them. But simply having her sons nearby wasn't enough. In time, she helped convince her parents, her brother Steve and his family, and her cousin Nunie to make the move as well. Debby didn't just say family was important—she worked hard to keep hers close.

Family gatherings also came with another Debby tradition: gossip. Debby loved hearing what was going on with everyone and sharing a good story. At gatherings, it wasn't unusual for the women in the family to disappear into a room together for hours, talking, laughing, catching up, and, of course, gossiping. Debby was right at home in the middle of it.

Some of the memories that best describe Debby are the small ones. When Tom was a rambunctious toddler, getting him to take a nap wasn't always easy. Debby, needing a little break herself, came up with a solution. She would lie down beside him and tell him that whoever fell asleep first would win a prize. Somehow, Tom never remembered to ask about that prize when he woke up. Mom won either way.

Those little moments were what Debby was about. She loved being silly with her friends and family. She played with them, danced with them, laughed with them, and gave them her attention. If she liked you, she would throw in a playful jab at times to see if you could handle it, before opening the floodgates.

Debby also loved her animals, especially her dogs. They weren't simply pets; they were family, and she guarded and protected them accordingly. Anyone who knew Debby knew just how seriously she took loving and protecting her dogs and she had the tattoos to prove it.

Debby was diagnosed with Alzheimer's at a relatively young age, a diagnosis that was heartbreaking for everyone who loved her. Over time, the disease gradually took away pieces of the woman her family had always known. Conversations changed, memories became harder to reach, and Alzheimer's made it increasingly difficult for Debby to express all the personality, humor, and love that had defined her life.

But it couldn't take everything.

Her family found ways to continue reaching her. They would sit with her and draw or paint. They would turn on music and dance with her. And remarkably, even when other memories became difficult to find, music could still reach a part of Debby that Alzheimer's couldn't seem to touch. She would remember the words to songs and sing along. For those moments, the disease faded into the background and the fun-loving, music-loving Debby everyone knew was still right there with them.

Those moments became gifts.

Debby's life wasn't defined by Alzheimer's. It was defined by everything that came before it and all the love that remained through it. It was defined by Saturday movie nights, dancing around the house, Christmas with family, dogs that were loved and protected like children, Agostino cooking while she cleaned, women disappearing into another room to gossip, silly jokes, nicknames, laughter, and coffee and cake.

Most of all, Debby's life was defined by family.

Debra Ann “Debby” Mangione was a kind and fun-loving woman who loved her family and her dogs above everything else. Alzheimer's may have taken some of her memories, but it cannot take away the memories her family has of her.

Those belong to them forever.

She will be deeply missed, lovingly remembered, and every time the right song comes on, there will always be a reason to think of Debby—and maybe get up and dance.