Tampa, FL/Greece, NY. Frank is predeceased by his parents, Salvatore & Carmela Vella; & son, Frank Vella, Jr. He is survived by his daughters, Cami Vella & Lori Vella; daughter-in-law, Jen Vella; grandchildren, Alexandra Vella, Samantha Vella, & Gianni Mirosevich; several nieces, nephews, friends in the US & Italy.

Frank’s life story will be shared during his visitation, Monday, April 6th, 4-7 PM at the funeral home, 1411 Vintage Lane (between 390 & Long Pond Rd.). His Funeral Mass will be celebrated, Tuesday, April 7th, 10 AM at St. Lawrence Church, 1000 N. Greece Rd. Immediately following Frank, will be laid to rest in Holy Sepulchre Cemetery.

Frank Vella Sr. lived a life defined by strength, pride, resilience, and a deep, enduring love for his family – expressed not just in words, but in the way he showed up, the way he worked, and the way he lived every day.

He was born Francesco Vella on July 13, 1938, in Realmonte, Sicily. His Sicilian roots shaped who he was – proud, principled, strong-willed, and deeply connected to family and tradition.

As a young man, he served for nearly ten years in the Carabinieri, Italy’s military police. He was stationed in Rome and later in northern Italy in the Veneto region near Venice, including Chioggia, and spent time in nearby cities such as Padova. That experience instilled discipline, strength, and presence – qualities that stayed with him throughout his life.

At the same time, he carried a very different relationship with time. Growing up in Sicily, where life moved at its own pace and even the trains were not known for arriving on schedule, he never developed a strict sense of timing-and that stayed with him. He was famously late for everything. If dinner was at six, you told him four. He would always say he was “around the corner,” and somehow, he always arrived exactly when he intended.

Before coming to the United States, he spent time in Germany, where he owned and operated a gelato shop – an early sign of his independence and drive to build something of his own.

At the age of 27, he came to the United States alone, with just two suitcases and the determination to build a life for himself.

Not long after arriving, he met Carol Spinelli, who worked as a stenographer, and they married just four months later. He was embraced by her family, including her parents, who welcomed him as one of their own. He never forgot that and remained deeply loyal to them throughout his life-checking in, helping, and staying present in their lives with gratitude and respect.

In Rochester, he started his business in the basement of his home, building it piece by piece. Through persistence and craftsmanship, that small beginning grew into Vella Bath & Kitchens on Stone Road, and ultimately into a larger showroom and warehouse in Macedon. At one time, the business expanded to additional locations, including Fairport and Buffalo.

His work was a true family effort. His son, Frank Jr., was by his side from a young age, and his daughters worked alongside him as well-spending Saturdays in the showroom and accompanying him on estimates, where he proudly introduced them as his “little helpers.” Wherever they went, people recognized his work. It was not uncommon for someone to stop and ask, “Are you Frank Vella? You did my kitchen.” His reputation was built not just on craftsmanship, but on trust and relationships.

Frank believed in doing things the right way: with precision, pride, and effort-and in building not just spaces, but a life.

He taught himself to read, write, and speak English fluently after arriving in the United States, even contributing writing to the local Rotary Club newsletters – something he took great pride in.

He lived fully and on his own terms. He had a young mind, endless energy, and a strong sense of independence that never left him. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and people were drawn to that. His family and friends admired him for it, and many of the stories that defined him were as unpredictable as they were memorable.

He was known for his humor and his outlandish way of moving through life. Once he started telling a story, he would hold onto your arm to make sure you stayed until the very end – and by then, you weren’t just listening, you were laughing, not only at the story, but at him.

At home, there was a rhythm to his life. He never showed up empty-handed-always bringing flowers, a plant, or dessert. Slippers were ready. Food was prepared. You were expected to sit, eat, and stay.

He loved cooking and took great pride in it. He was known for making sauce and for orchestrating the Greece Rotary ziti dinners – encouraging everyone to come, handing out tickets, and then taking his place in the kitchen making sure everything was done right. If something wasn’t stirred or didn’t come out the way it should, he noticed. It mattered to him.

Meals were never simple-they were experiences. Pasta, meat, soup, homemade bread, and strong coffee. He added basil to omelets “just for color,” and believed cold drinks were a shock to the system – often heating orange juice or even cereal, much to the dismay of his children.

Italian culture was always part of life through him. Sunday mornings began with loud Italian music – his version of an alarm clock-and afternoons were spent watching soccer.

He loved soccer – not just as a spectator, but as a player. He had real skill and took pride in it, and he remained connected to the game throughout his life, including attending Rochester Lancers games.

He valued his language and culture, even if he wasn’t the most structured teacher-focusing more on vocabulary, simple words, and expressions he wanted his family to carry with them.

He also had a deep love for sports, especially the Buffalo Bills. He proudly followed the team as part of Bills Mafia, wearing his Bills hats even in Tampa, where it never took long for someone to start a conversation.

And if there was one simple way to his heart, it was ice cream or gelato. He was always ready to go get some, turning even the smallest outing into something to enjoy together.

He had a deep appreciation for nature and studied horticulture. His home, even in the middle of a Rochester winter, felt like a jungle-filled with thriving lemon trees and plants. Outside, he cultivated Rose of Sharon, berries, apple and pear trees, and mint. He took pride in caring for them, and it had to be done just right.

He always loved dogs. When his children were growing up, the family had German Shepherds he took great pride in raising. In later years, his dog Charlie became his constant companion, going everywhere with him and rarely leaving his side.

He cared deeply for people. He maintained strong relationships with family, including his former in-laws, always checking in, bringing groceries, and making sure people were okay. He showed his love through action-by being present and by helping when it mattered.

He was deeply proud of his children and the lives they built.

He also found great joy in his grandchildren – Alexandra, Samantha, and Gianni.

With Alexandra and Samantha, he was deeply involved in their lives – making blueberry pancakes, taking them apple picking, bringing them to Sam’s Club, and attending dance recitals – often arriving just in time, walking straight to the front to take pictures and wave.

With Gianni, he formed a special bond, often wanting him nearby and proudly saying, “We are men, let us talk.”

He was a man of faith who held his beliefs deeply and carried the memory of those who had passed before him.

He experienced profound loss in his life, especially the passing of his son, Frank Vella Jr., and his brother, Pino Vella – losses he carried with him always.

Through everything, he remained a steady presence-someone his family could depend on without question. He was their rock, their pillar, and their strength.

Frank will be remembered as a man who lived fully, worked hard, cared deeply, and did things his way.

Now, he is reunited with his son.

His legacy lives on in his family, in the life he built, and in the stories that will continue to be told.