A Tribute to Sandy Anderson
25 August 2008 @ 05:00 hours
Dispatcher Sandy Anderson, a 14-year employee of the Boulder City Police Department (Nevada) died of cancer on August 7, 2008. Her memorial service was on August 19, 2008. I wrote this tribute and it was published in the Boulder City News on August 28, 2008:
Family members and friends, some from as far away as Alaska, joined together last week in a tearful and heartfelt good-bye to our sister, Sandy Anderson, a well-loved and respected dispatcher. Sandy’s memorial service - a combination of honor guard precision, laughter, and personal testimony - was a fitting tribute to her commitment to others and her courageous battle with breast cancer.
Police officers, along with their firefighter brethren, formed up early at the police station for the motorcade to the memorial service in Henderson. On this day, there would be no distinction between police officer and dispatcher. This was family. Sandy’s knowledge and competence as a dispatcher had ensured us a safe return at shift’s end for many years; her friendliness and playful banter touched all of us in happier times. Now we were gathered inside the briefing room – a gradual dark cloud forming as we received motorcade instructions and grasped the finality of saying good-bye to a loved one.
Our procession to Henderson was quiet and undisturbed except for the occasional red light. Arriving in front of the mortuary on Boulder Highway, we aligned every available police vehicle in an orderly fashion in preparation for the final march to the cemetery.
Officers then formed a sea of blue along both sides of the entrance into the chapel - an impromptu honor guard underscoring the importance and significance of Sandy’s life. Barry, our beloved K-9, a black band around his badge hanging from his furry neck, sensed our sorrow as he lay down quietly on the grass next to his handler. Many former Boulder City police officers, who had either retired or moved on to other agencies, joined the overflow crowd that quickly filled the chapel.
Once inside, the revered silence eventually became upbeat as Sandy’s life was depicted on a giant screen. Many folks overcame their stage fright and came forth to tell warm-hearted stories that brought tears of joy and laughter. Testimonies of motherly love by her two heroic daughters, Cassie and Kaylee, brought tears of sorrow and tears of joy – sorrow for the untimely loss of their sweet mother – joyful with the knowledge that Sandy loved and cherished her family. This contagious joy filled our hearts as we departed the chapel.
Sandy, never having desired to be in any spotlight, would have blushed at the police and fire motorcade escorting her this warm summer morning. Police officers from her hometown of Henderson flawlessly blocked traffic with their pristine motorcycles and led the way for us.
The lead police car crested the first hill into our city and gracefully opened the curtain on a symphony of flashing lights growing in size and intensity as each vehicle closely followed. The mile-long ribbon of red-and-blue flashing lights was a solemn reminder of the significance of Sandy’s final commute to Boulder City.
Our motorcade proceeded to a non-descript but special plot inside the Southern Nevada Veterans Memorial Cemetery. The honor guard performance and the presentation of the American flag to Sandy’s family stilled the sounds of our beating hearts. Sandy’s ashes were spread upon the gravesite of her parents – her father a veteran of the Korean War. The bagpipes rendition of Amazing Grace resonated perfectly throughout the hallowed grounds and enlarged the collective lump in our throats.
If a stranger had wandered into our midst two hours earlier, he would have learned that one person’s inner strength had made us all stronger; that one person’s kindness had made us more compassionate; that one person’s love of family had made us more loving; and that one person had made a difference.
The dispatch area has not been the same since Sandy left - and it never will be. However, her tragic passing at such an early age has taught many of us to value our time on earth, knowing that we could breathe our final breath at any time.
We miss you Sandy, but we will never forget you.
Family members and friends, some from as far away as Alaska, joined together last week in a tearful and heartfelt good-bye to our sister, Sandy Anderson, a well-loved and respected dispatcher. Sandy’s memorial service - a combination of honor guard precision, laughter, and personal testimony - was a fitting tribute to her commitment to others and her courageous battle with breast cancer.
Police officers, along with their firefighter brethren, formed up early at the police station for the motorcade to the memorial service in Henderson. On this day, there would be no distinction between police officer and dispatcher. This was family. Sandy’s knowledge and competence as a dispatcher had ensured us a safe return at shift’s end for many years; her friendliness and playful banter touched all of us in happier times. Now we were gathered inside the briefing room – a gradual dark cloud forming as we received motorcade instructions and grasped the finality of saying good-bye to a loved one.
Our procession to Henderson was quiet and undisturbed except for the occasional red light. Arriving in front of the mortuary on Boulder Highway, we aligned every available police vehicle in an orderly fashion in preparation for the final march to the cemetery.
Officers then formed a sea of blue along both sides of the entrance into the chapel - an impromptu honor guard underscoring the importance and significance of Sandy’s life. Barry, our beloved K-9, a black band around his badge hanging from his furry neck, sensed our sorrow as he lay down quietly on the grass next to his handler. Many former Boulder City police officers, who had either retired or moved on to other agencies, joined the overflow crowd that quickly filled the chapel.
Once inside, the revered silence eventually became upbeat as Sandy’s life was depicted on a giant screen. Many folks overcame their stage fright and came forth to tell warm-hearted stories that brought tears of joy and laughter. Testimonies of motherly love by her two heroic daughters, Cassie and Kaylee, brought tears of sorrow and tears of joy – sorrow for the untimely loss of their sweet mother – joyful with the knowledge that Sandy loved and cherished her family. This contagious joy filled our hearts as we departed the chapel.
Sandy, never having desired to be in any spotlight, would have blushed at the police and fire motorcade escorting her this warm summer morning. Police officers from her hometown of Henderson flawlessly blocked traffic with their pristine motorcycles and led the way for us.
The lead police car crested the first hill into our city and gracefully opened the curtain on a symphony of flashing lights growing in size and intensity as each vehicle closely followed. The mile-long ribbon of red-and-blue flashing lights was a solemn reminder of the significance of Sandy’s final commute to Boulder City.
Our motorcade proceeded to a non-descript but special plot inside the Southern Nevada Veterans Memorial Cemetery. The honor guard performance and the presentation of the American flag to Sandy’s family stilled the sounds of our beating hearts. Sandy’s ashes were spread upon the gravesite of her parents – her father a veteran of the Korean War. The bagpipes rendition of Amazing Grace resonated perfectly throughout the hallowed grounds and enlarged the collective lump in our throats.
If a stranger had wandered into our midst two hours earlier, he would have learned that one person’s inner strength had made us all stronger; that one person’s kindness had made us more compassionate; that one person’s love of family had made us more loving; and that one person had made a difference.
The dispatch area has not been the same since Sandy left - and it never will be. However, her tragic passing at such an early age has taught many of us to value our time on earth, knowing that we could breathe our final breath at any time.
We miss you Sandy, but we will never forget you.
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