My life took a unexpected turn on an area known as Paradise Lane. It was the last place my husband, Andy, would ever be, and the first place I would begin a life I never wanted one filled with fear, heartbreak, and loss. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, an unusually warm day for November.
Courtesy of Katie Stifter
I was pregnant with our third child and sitting on the couch, wiping away tears over a silly TV show. Andy, always the one to make me laugh, danced around the room wearing our son’s birthday party hat before heading out for one last paddle on the lake before winter. That playful moment, his goofy smile, would be the last memory I’d ever have of him alive. Hours passed without word from him.
Courtesy of Katie Stifter
At first, I didn’t worry. But by mid-afternoon, his phone went straight to voicemail, and unease started to grow. I drove to the lake, and when I turned onto Paradise Lane, I saw our car. Then I spotted his paddleboard drifting far from shore, empty. My heart pounded as I screamed his name and called 911. Rescue teams searched the shoreline and the water. They found his board, along with his phone, camera, and keys, but no sign of Andy.
Jody Savage photography
That night, after hours of searching, they told me to go home and rest for the baby’s sake. But there was no rest. For three weeks and four days, he remained missing. As the lake froze over, my fear shifted not only had I lost him, but I might never see him again. On December 20, 2016, an ice fisherman accidentally dropped a camera into the water. By chance or maybe something greater it landed near Andy’s foot. He had been found.
Courtesy of Katie Stifter
Now I had to tell our children their father had died. Even though we had all known the chances were small, we had clung to hope. His funeral took place the day after Christmas.
Courtesy of Katie Stifter
The cold water had preserved his body, allowing an open casket. It was painful, but it gave our family and community a chance to say goodbye. Having him home again was both devastating and strangely comforting. On April 29, 2017, our son, Sullivan “Sully” Andrew, was born.
Courtesy of Katie Stifter
Stephanie Witty Anderson Photography
Andy wasn’t there physically, but I felt him with us. Sully will grow up hearing stories about his father the man who loved us fiercely and could make anyone laugh. every second I miss him. still i trust that joy will find a way to me. For Andy, for myself, and for our children, I will keep living. I will cherish the memories we made and carry his story forward, no matter where life takes me.
