Sandra Holder, born April 28, 1943 and left April 3, 2026. With this, I hope to leave the traditional obituary and remember who this amazing woman truly was. To help you know her, each of our three daughters have written their special thoughts below.

Sandra and I were married when I was almost twenty-one and she was nineteen. Had she lived until July 7, we’d have been married for sixty-four years. A life together for that many years is not one endless tingle in the tummy. Based on various marriage predictions, we were ill-suited for each other. We were both the youngest child in our family. She was born in San Diego and lived her life in (All over, her dad always looked for greener grass and moved the family often) California. I was born on a small farm in rural Mississippi. We met on November 18, 1961. Before Christmas, we were engaged. We were married on July 7, 1962, less than a year after we first met. However, through major illnesses, career, and just life, we chose at each step to grow up together. When the minister who performed our marriage required us to repeat, “Til death do us part,” we said the words, and we worked through all the changes to honor that vow.

Almost sixty-four years simply was not enough time for us. So many things I’d love to have said, especially that last day before she left. She always “Got” me. And she was honest to the core in working to push me to be the best “Me” I could be. Sometimes she was direct. She learned that from her father. But she was honest with me, and she worked as hard to be her best self as she did in nudging our daughters and me.

I still find myself patting her chair where I often patted her knee or her shoulder. She often teased me; her “Love language” was doing, helping, and mine, while including doing, included touching, patting, and hugging. We found a way to blend both our love languages over the years, to know that we loved each other—and that we were loved.

I confess. I don’t know how or if I’ll ever fully grasp my new situation. I literally lost my best friend, that one person who knew me best, knew all my quirks, and, yes, my weaknesses and flaws, but she loved me fiercely and made it oh so easy for me to love her in the same way. Sandra spent her thirtieth birthday in the hospital. She left that hospital with a metastatic stage four prognosis. That means her doctors doubted that she would live another year. When I struggle with my present loss, I recall that season of our life. Instead of dwelling on what I’ve lost, I work to be thankful for all we had, fifty-three years together, not less than one from that date. And God willing, I’ll work to keep those blessed years alive in my memory till I join her. I love you, Sandra!

Kelli

My Mom, My Friend

No matter how old you are, or how old she was...losing your mom, your friend, your 'always knows' just by hearing your voice feels like a hole has been cut out of your heart, that the world just got less safe and more dark, that pain may forever replace the space she filled. Mom taught me about forgiveness and unconditional love. She taught me how long Thanksgiving leftovers would keep in the frig. She taught me resilience and that (if this were even possible) I didn't need to worry about a thing because she worried about every possible worst-case scenario already. I learned the importance of family traditions and how to make her spaghetti sauce. She showed me what inner strength looks like and to never forget sunscreen (reapply!!) or water. I talked to my Mom every day. I have “forgotten" and started to call a few times but then that aching hole in my heart reminds me I will never, could never actually forget. I never want to. I miss my Mom. 'As long as I'm living, my Mommy you'll be.'

The last line is from a book that Mom read to Shawn when he was little and it made her cry every time.

Natalie

My Mom was a walking contradiction. She would be the first person to tell you she wasn’t smart or educated but argue confidently and compellingly with any doctor. She was a reliable source of knowledge and comfort to those she loved on any subject. Her advice was solid and her family cherished every word.

She would say she wasn’t strong, but she was the strongest person I’d ever met. She’d worry herself sick over the smallest things, her “comfort zone” was a constant state of worry. And yet, she was a rock when anything major happened. You could count on her, period. She held her family together and loved her people well. Her quiet strength was a gift.

Her body tried to take her from us many times, but she said nope! Mom was a fighter. She valued her health and never took it for granted. She loved exercise, taking walks and riding bikes, doing Jane Fonda videos with her teenage daughters, roller skating with her grandkids, dancing to Neil Diamond and hiking the steepest trails in Yosemite.

Mom was a great mother, raising three strong daughters. She valued the conservative and traditional role she chose for herself but instilled a strong sense of independence in her daughters. Her strength and confidence in us gave us a strong foundation, one that has been passed on to her grandkids.

She was so loved and admired, and her loss leaves behind many, many brokenhearted people. She would say she was unworthy of any fuss or attention, but we all know she was worth every bit.

Leah

How do you sum up one of the most important people in your life into one paragraph? It's an insurmountable task to honor someone who shaped the strong woman I am today in just a few words. So I think, how would she want someone to remember her?

Mom was a quiet, yet fiercely loyal and loving person. There was not a mountain she wouldn't climb and conquer if it meant taking care of the people she loved. Her family was her priority and she lived to make us all as happy as we could be. Somehow, she had the exact love needed for everyone; she just had the intuition, strength, and precise love to give to each honored person to be at the other end of her love. She was an observer. She noticed everything and could tell by hearing just one word that something was wrong and she would do any and everything to help make it right. She led our family, in all its diversity, with a quiet wisdom that will forever be missed. Mom had a quiet strength that she held close. She didn't want the attention, the recognition, the acknowledgement of any of her strength, but she was strong right up to the end. The mark she left on all of us will forever be carried in our hearts as she shaped us all, but knowing we will see each other again in heaven is a peaceful comfort. And that heaven will be clean, disinfected, and have the best meal on the table waiting for us with open arms and a smile!