07/22/2026
When you've been thinking all week about how to write something, sometimes it's because your heart doesn't want it to be true.
I was shocked to hear of the passing of my good friend, Sandra. It came so suddenly, completely out of nowhere.
If you attended Memorial High School in the late 1970s or early 1980s, there's a good chance Sandra taught you biology or another science class. And if she didn't, you certainly would have noticed her in the halls.
She wasn't easy to miss.
Sandra was younger than many of the teachers back then. She had long, beautiful brown hair, was always so fit, and drove a Trans Am to school. She was striking.
I'll admit something that many of my classmates probably shared.
She was my biggest teacher crush ever.
I loved to skip classes back then, but if I had Sandra's class, you can be sure I was there. I even made sure I dressed a little better on the days I knew I'd see her. π
But what made Sandra truly special had nothing to do with how she looked.
She was brilliant.
She had a remarkable gift for teaching. She could explain difficult things in a way that made them understandable, and she had a way of lifting everyone around her. You always felt smarter after spending time with her.
Years later, after I opened my first one-hour photo lab and studio, Sandra would come in to have her vacation photos developed. There were always pictures from cruises or another adventure somewhere in the world. Those visits allowed me to get to know her not as my former teacher, but as a friend.
Over the years, that friendship grew.
We'd often go out for dinner, and one thing she used to say always stayed with me. She would tell me that, unlike most men, I liked to talk about "things."
It always made me smile because I knew exactly what she meant.
Sandra was a deep thinker and a deep feeler. So am I. We could spend hours talking about life, people, faith, and the world around us. Those conversations never felt rushed, and they were never boring.
Our shared faith drew us even closer.
In 2009, Sandra earned her Master's in Ministry from St. Francis Xavier University. She even wrote a book about St. Paul and his missionary journeys. I know I have a copy somewhere, and after hearing this news, I'll be looking for it again. It feels like one more conversation with someone who always had something worth teaching.
Sometimes we'd talk about travelling together. She loved to travel and would say she didn't always have someone to go with.
Now, like anyone who loses someone they love, I find myself thinking about all the moments you assume there will still be time for.
Life gets busy.
There are only so many hours in a day, and when you know and care about many people, you convince yourself there will always be another dinner, another conversation, another trip.
Sometimes there isn't.
Sandra once told me, "You were like a little man in my classroom."
I think she meant because of the way I dressed and carried myself around her. I wanted her to take me seriously, even back then. Looking back, that makes me smile.
I was incredibly fortunate that the teacher I admired as a teenager became one of my dear friends as an adult.
It wasn't that long ago that I last saw her, which is why hearing this news made me sick to my stomach.
Tomorrow, many of us will gather to say goodbye.
If you were Sandra's friend, chances are you were one of her good friends. That was simply who she was. She made people feel seen, valued, and cared for.
Thank you, Sandra, for your friendship, your wisdom, your faith, and the many conversations we shared.
May God bless you and grant you eternal rest.
And with hope, I look forward to the day we meet again.
