Sandy and I first met in grad school. I couldn’t help but notice her because she arrived late for Substance Abuse class. For those who know and love her, being late was on-brand for Sandy.

The first thing that caught my attention that night, as she strode the full length of the classroom to find her seat, was the overalls she wore. Sandy would later call them shabby chic. The only thing I knew was that she definitely was not a cattle farmer. Next was her beautiful red hair, which was a light auburn with light blond highlights. Sure, it was slightly augmented with chemicals, but I didn’t care. Her hair was lovely. And lastly, she sported a crooked smile. It was a smile that inferred she had just discovered a humorous irony, but was determined to keep it to herself. You wanted to know more.

By the third class, the seat at the front left of the room, which by squatter's right I had tried to claim, was taken. So I made lemonade out of lemons and sat on the right side of the room in a talkative group with Sandy. During a lecture on alcohol’s effect on Serotonin and liver disease, we made introductions. I was in my first semester of Practicum, seeing real clients in the clinic. Sandy had a semester or two left before joining me.

So our relationship began. We did what older graduate students do—“dated” by hanging out at the Ugly Mug, a coffee place half a block from campus. In time, I introduced her to my kids, Andrea and Kyle. She didn’t know it, nor did anyone else: Meeting my kids was a privilege that had to be earned. It required character, integrity, and a genuineness of spirit that few possess. Sandy aced the test.

We married in February 2000. I was working in my second internship at both a non-profit counseling center and a private practice. I worked 6 days a week for over 3 years to earn those precious internship hours. What I wasn’t earning was much money. Sandy was doing the same, working hard to gain the 3000 hours needed to test for licensure. Little did we know that those years laid the foundation for the team the two of us would eventually become.

We began our journey together first as students, then interns, and became an “us” and a “we.” Over time, Sandy grew from “Sandy” to “Mini Mom” to a beloved “Gigi” to our grandchildren James, Farren, Claire, Eliza, and Orion. Our family, as well as her mother, Billie, sisters Deborah and Sherry, brother Michael, and their partners and children, are forever grateful for the role Sandy played in our lives. To her friends and all who encountered her, know she cared about you and your lives as well.

It is impossible to convey the totality of a person with just a few lines on a page. Like shadows cast by a fire onto a wall, each person who encountered Sandy can recall her fire, her laughter, and her spirit. Those of us left behind long for the fire and hold tight to the shadows in our memories. The memories are sweet and filled with her essence.

Sandy often described herself by saying in vulnerable moments, both small and large, “I’m just a small furry animal.” There was and is truth to the parallel. Sandy displayed her vulnerability for all the world to see. Over time, her vulnerability, as it often does, became a strength.

Sandy loved with gentle ferocity. Her love offered warmth without demand. It was loyal and fierce in defense of who and what she loved. Her caring was brazen. Her love was broad and as deep as deep can be. Sandy’s love lasts. The love of all who knew her will endure as long as hers.

My love, you will be missed...

“If ever there is a tomorrow when we are not together

There is something you must always remember.

You are braver than you believe,

Stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.

But the most important thing is,

Even if we are apart,

I will always be with you.”

Winnie the Pooh

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