My mom, Sandi Rivka Levy, just left this mortal world. She passed incredibly peacefully, squeezing the hand of her belov
ed, incredibly wonderful husband Stan and being enveloped in love by her family (Stan, Jim and Sylvia). I am so fortunate that I got to spend many beautiful last days with her, where we cuddled on the bed, told each other “I love you”, held each other, sang all her favorite songs to her, from the 1940’s – 1970’s, showed her her favorite old photos, I slipped her some amazing chocolate and surprisingly, joked a lot (sense of humor to the end!) with her. She told me she was sparkling as she was transitioning, which she always has.

She was born on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in 1938, where her beloved daddy Jack, was the doctor (and in the Navy, later becoming Captain and moving to San Diego, where she would grow up) and her mom, Sylva, was the school teacher.
Sandi was a larger than life person. Big personality, emotion, love, energy, determination! Original Girl Power. Queen of the adjective. Master of vocabulary. A lover of writing. A Women’s Libber in the 70’s, Farm Workers advocate, Civil Rights marcher… and remained active in those kind of causes for her whole life. She would make sure to expose me to friends of color during my childhood, making the effort to branch out of our white suburban neighborhood. She actively taught me about racism in the 1960’s and spoke about it constantly. She lived her devotion to equality.

She was a member of the prestigious Old Globe Theatre in San Diego, taking classes and performing in plays from 12 years old, also at Chadwick School and Whittier College (head cheerleader) and on throughout my childhood, getting me to join her in community theatre. She was an early actress in TV in Los Angeles. She was also on the Tom Duggan show as his sidekick for his TV talkshow. She was the smart aleck girl who caught shit for wearing pants and having an opinion, for a living. At the same time, she was a model as well, while having two tiny kids at home and being newly single from my estranged dad, Larry Hayes.

Soon, she re-married and we all moved to Maryland, where she completed her first college degree in Speech-Pathology and Audiology (she saw her child clients in our house). She went on later to get her Master’s in Social Work, teaching credentials, MFCC and all the while, working in Spanish, much of the time, with her therapy clients, who included a Women’s Prison and families.

We had her piano playing and singing in the house all the time. She was an accomplished pianist and the life of the party. She studied as a child with master teachers and the skills never left. Music was always joyful for us.
We spent countless hours on the Chesepeake Bay, boating from island to island, crabbing, clam digging, singing and just being in nature. Her zest for life was utterly infectious. I would say that is the defining thing for me. Her enthusiasm, no limits, no rules, not giving a shit what anyone else thought and just squeezing every single bit out of each moment, possible. That wasn’t always safe…but it was never boring! Joy, drama and excitement- she felt everything in a big way.
We all moved to Utah and got more nature. We moved on a mountain side, bought a Jeep and four-wheel drove all over, to remote places to camp (I never saw an official camping site until my 20’s) Everything was impromptu. Kind of the credo. It made me (and probably my brother Jim, as well), feel capable and invincible. All the while in those early years, there was a lot of warmth and love. We traveled and always stayed with families and ate the food of the region. Lots of crafts and always, art museums- everywhere we went. When I wanted to be a drummer, as a little 10 year old girl, she got me a vintage drum set and lessons. We went to the dump’s special room to buy many cool vintage things for our house and fixed them up. I never stopped doing that.

When my mom got pissed off at the establishment on your behalf, you kind of felt badly for the people doing you wrong. You knew they were going to lose. Badly. With her sharp brain and even sharper tongue and determination, policy was GOING to change. And it did. Then she’d flash her beautiful smile, thank them and they’d feel honored. Talent.
She dove into things. And drove into things! (Our road trips were very cool as well, where I got to drive, as a kid.) She studied and loved the Mayan culture, so we moved to the Yukatán for 3 months, one summer, to live in a bare house on the beach in a remote fishing village. It was the 60’s. We only had hammocks and a table, had our ice delivered for refrigeration and not a single person spoke English.We ate fish head soup and sea turtle that we caught (yucky.) It was a glorious summer.
As a 15 year old, she was the cool mom. Not necessarily always ideal, but she DID drive us to Boulder, Colorado to buy Stones tickets and then back to Colorado again, to see the 1978 Some Girls concert. Pretty cool.
As a girl, we loved going into fancy real estate open houses. We just liked it as an activity, so we would pretend we were thinking of buying and giggle the whole time.

A marriage ended, a new one began with a lovely man, but it ended shortly. It wasn’t the right match. Then a few years later, she met Ricardo Barbero, whom she stayed married to until he passed. It was a long marriage, he was a rocket scientist and activist. She was a professional writer, writing grants and also doing therapy with clients in their community.
She ended her life with her husband Stan, who is the sweetest man ever. He gave her love, intelligence, openness, is totally nonjudgmental (with of us all) and humor- and I’m sure a whole host of beautiful stuff I know nothing about. But I saw the love and giggles between them and I’m grateful. I think she was probably at her most calm and happy.

My mom was a complicated person. For me, life with her was often so incredibly beautiful, where I absolutely knew I was loved and cherished by her and sometimes it was absolutely fraught with too much intense drama to handle. She had to overcome so much from her own childhood and she made great, monumental strides. But even with the big gaps we had in between our years together, we would always pick up and move forward, like nothing had happened, when we would reunite. We loved each other deeply and also, she missed out on huge swaths of my life, which makes me feel a different, not as known, sense of deep loss. But we always laughed at the absurdities of life when we came together or talked on the phone. Her wit and charm were truly epic. I will ache for those hugs (and penetrating eyes gazing at me) and am so glad I got some again, in her last week of life. I’m also glad I got to thank her and let her know how much I love her.
She let me know how proud she felt of Jackie and Sadie and how much she loved Adam, every time we spoke in the last few years.

I am grateful for learning from Mom: To advocate for people. For a sense of adventure. For speaking up. For deeply caring about others. For learning that sometimes you need to fight. For her cuddliness and songs at bedtime. For her love of all things beautiful, that I appreciate too; flowers, nature, music, rivers and lakes, mountains, dogs, decor, fashion. For her intense love of reading and learning and it never waning. For diving into things, knowing you’ll make it work, somehow (worry later!) . For an utter lack of fear in life. I am deeply grateful to this flawed and staggeringly beautiful soul.

This isn’t the last of us.

Thank you, Mom.