From Jason

My mom had an eclectic life that wasn’t a straight line—much like a jazz song, built on a strong foundation that allowed for interpretation, improvisation, and adventure. Most people who hear my mom’s life story are confused and sometimes surprised by the obscure, seemingly contradictory, and always unconventional choices—but that’s what made Sandy “Sandy.” She was truly authentic. Mom often told me, “The only things in life I regret are the things I didn’t do!”

She wrote her own obituary and was very intentional about how she wanted to be remembered—and I believe it’s very modest. I suppose I feel that way because I am immensely proud not only of what she did in her life, but of how she lived and who she was. She was a fierce lover of her family and friends. She was a bon vivant who loved to cook, entertain, and try new and different fare. She was passionate about the arts—from jazz to handcrafts to art, literature, TV, and film. She also loved every car she ever owned and loved to drive—I think that solidified her sense of independence. She was masterful at word games like Scrabble and crossword puzzles, and eventually fell in love with Wordle when that came along. Later in life, she became passionate about golf and knew all the players and their life stories—when she got into something, she really got into it!

Sandy traveled and lived in many places throughout her life—and this didn’t change once she became a mother. We moved around a lot when I was little, and as I was packing up my room again, I sighed and asked her, “Where is home, Mom?” She held me in her arms and said, “Home is wherever your mother is.” To which I replied, “Yeah, right.” But she was right. Every home we lived in felt warm, familiar, and welcoming. Our home hosted her friends, my friends, my brother’s friends, our family, our chosen family—as well as jazz musicians and community members. It was always the place to hang out, and that was because of my mom.

I loved my mom with my entire heart from the day I was born until the day she took her last breath and beyond. When I was little, I never wanted to leave her side. One night at a community party, I was holding on to her skirt, afraid to go play with the other little kids, and she looked down at me and said, “I’m not raising that child. Go play and try to make friends—if you don’t like it, you can come back to me.” I of course had a great time and came back later to a proud mom. This became the model for the rest of our life together: fully enjoy each other’s company, then go out into the world and report back.

There’s a lot more I could say about her, but I know that her friends and family already know who she was, because every memory that has been shared with me exactly lines up with the person I knew. And I am certain that she would be gratified to know that she was loved as much as she loved. Lest we get too sappy, she was also intimidatingly smart, strong, opinionated, brusque—and a total badass who loved her gin and cigarettes!

My mother supported me in every way, in every moment of my life, and created a solid foundation for me to move through the world as the person I am. I’ll miss her hugs, emails, and the way she would memorize my travel schedule—and all the big and small moments we had together.

It was incredible to have Sandy as my mom.