Izzy Samuel Leybovich

On July 27, 2026, the world lost Izzy Samuel Leybovich: engineer, immigrant, reader, gardener, sports fan, one-line comedian, devoted father, and the best friend, partner, and soulmate of his wife, Larissa. He died in Irvine, California, at the age of 75, leaving an enormous hole in the lives of the people who loved him.

Izzy’s story began in rural Unkhayat, Uzbekistan, where he was born to Jewish parents Bercu Leibovici from Romania and Rivka Naftulovich from Moldova. They had been driven east by the Nazi advance into Bessarabia during World War II. When Izzy was two, the family returned to Chișinău, Moldova. His childhood was materially poor: water had to be carried home, clothing was repeatedly repaired, and the family lived for a time in a house made of mud and straw. But that was never the way Izzy chose to summarize it. “We were poor,” he said, “but we had fun.”

And Izzy did. He played soccer, chased butterflies, picked sour cherries, tended animals, and once decorated the family’s ducks with ribbons. He taught himself to read at about five years old, prompting his immensely proud father to have him demonstrate his new ability by reading the newspaper aloud in a barbershop. Soon he was carrying two bags of books home from the library. He learned chess from an incomplete book whose missing pages never explained checkmate, so he and his brothers simply played until one of them managed to physically grab the other’s king.

That curiosity never left him. Izzy loved physics because it explained the real world, and because every answer revealed how much more there was to understand. He studied semiconductors and engineering in Ryazan, Russia, graduating first in his class with honors. Although antisemitism prevented him at first from receiving the professional placement his achievement should have earned, Izzy refused to let that injustice define the course of his life. He returned to Chișinău and became a senior engineer at Moldova’s radio and television broadcasting organization.

It was there, in August 1977, that he met Larissa. He was initially her boss (dating fellow comrades at work was considered OK), but that arrangement did not last nearly as long as their love did. Before their relationship became serious, Izzy told her directly that he intended to leave the Soviet Union. He saw a “gray future” there, especially for Jews, and wanted the freedom to build something better. Larissa understood. In characteristic Izzy fashion, the proposal itself was simple and unembellished: “Would you like to marry me?” They married in 1978 and spent nearly 48 years as husband and wife, best friends, partners, and soulmates.

Izzy and Larissa arrived in St. Louis on April 25, 1979, with little money, limited English, and an abundance of determination. Izzy learned English partly by watching television game shows (a lifelong enjoyment from there on) and soon began helping other immigrants communicate with their social workers. He found his first American job within a month, working as an electronic test technician for $5.50 an hour. His boss quickly nicknamed him “Einstein” for his problem solving prowess.

The name fit. Izzy earned his electrical engineering PhD at Washington University. He once walked into a control-systems class with a slide rule while the other students carried calculators … and earned an A. He went on to a distinguished engineering career at McDonnell Douglas and Boeing that eventually brought him to Southern California and to work on aerospace and satellite programs. He worked on the space station, space shuttle, and so many more amazing things to satisfy his intellect and curiosity. The little boy who had once gazed upward and felt as though he were swimming among the stars would spend his professional life helping humanity reach them.

His proudest accomplishment, however, was never a degree, a technical achievement, or a satellite. It was his family.

Misha was born in 1983 in St. Louis, followed by Jen in 1985. Soon afterward, the family settled in Irvine. Izzy was the kind of father who helped with homework, encouraged independence, and wanted his children to be able to stand confidently on their own. He was immensely proud not only of what they accomplished, but of the people they became and the loving relationships they built.

Izzy’s intelligence was formidable, but it never made him cold. It was the opposite. He was immensely kind, caring, sensitive, selfless, and unfailingly supportive. He noticed decency in other people. When a young man held a door open, Izzy was known to tell him, “Your mother should be proud of you.” He believed in communication, in seeing another person’s point of view, in not holding grudges, and above all, in being kind.

He was also unmistakably human: strong-willed, opinionated, eager to debate, and capable of delivering an explanation with considerably more detail than anyone had requested. Izzy described himself as good at one-liners and not very good at long jokes. He was, however, exceptionally gifted at long explanations.

He loved books, board games, sports, hiking, travel, dogs, gardening, and the quiet miracle of planting a seed and watching life emerge from the soil. He loved physics and history, mint ice cream, and the freedom represented by his first American car. He loved Jewish culture and the long, complicated history from which he came. Most of all, he loved Larissa, Misha, and Jen.

In retirement, which began in 2015 and which he said he never once regretted, Izzy had more time for those loves. He traveled, read, gardened, followed sports, and returned with his family to Romania and Moldova to walk through the places from which their story had begun.

As a child, Izzy once heard that archaeologists had discovered a letter written by a boy 2,500 years earlier. He found himself wondering what message he might leave for people in the future. Decades later, he sat with his family and recorded the story of his life: preserving his memories, his humor, his ideas, and his unmistakable voice for the people who would come after him.

In one of those conversations, Izzy reflected on what might follow this life. He hoped there might be something more. Another opportunity to learn and grow. But if there was not, he concluded, “It was a good ride.”

It was indeed: improbable, difficult, courageous, curious, funny, generous, and filled with love.

Izzy is survived by Larissa, his wife and best friend of nearly 48 years; his son Misha and Misha’s wife Ava; his daughter Jen and her husband Michael and Izzy’s first granddaughter Ella; as well as extended family and friends across the many places he called home. He is irreplaceable, and he will be deeply loved and achingly missed forever.

A funeral service will be held on Sunday, August 2, 2026, at 10am at Harbor Lawn-Mt. Olive Memorial Park & Mortuary in Costa Mesa, California. All who knew and loved Izzy are invited to attend and say goodbye to this legend of a man.