I learned about the death of Sandy and John and Chase tonight at a Cornell University event. Sandy and I met at the Cornell Daily Sun when I was a senior and she a sophomore. We became friends and then boyfriend and girlfriend. After graduation, I was off to study overseas. We agreed that it would be crazy -- in the pre-internet world -- to try to keep the relationship going, but we were sure we would keep in contact and we did. In that year, she got a new boyfriend and I a new girlfriend, with my year of studies ending tragically with the death of my girlfriend in an accident. I returned to Ithaca. Sandy was still in a relationship and I was in deep grief, but we found time to get together, often to help me with my bottomless loss and sadness. We kept in contact loosely, I met and married the wonderful woman who is still my wife, and revived the relationship when she and John moved to New York City. Rachel and I visited them and Chase (and maybe Katy, I can't remember) in Denver. Time passed, and as happens, we spoke ever less frequently until Sandy became a sweet memory and someone I was sure I'd see again sometime in the future, but likely as more of a reunion than a current, dynamic relationship. Tonight, of course, Sandy is frozen in time and memory. Clicking through the family photos, seeing similarities in her daughters with the young woman I knew, I suddenly heard her explosive laugh, her sharing fragments of Indonesian ("Bogus sekali?" "Bike, bike sadja!" "How are you?" "Very well!"), and was reminded of how she would crinkle up the sides of her head around the bluest eyes I've ever seen up close when she would show a special interest in a comment. I am so sorry that Sandy never got to enjoy the full measure of her years. Seth Siegel