Sandra Bertine Blagdon

It is with broken heart that we announce the passing of our beautiful wife, mother, grandmother, and friend. Sandra is survived by her husband Ray, sons Jeffrey, Ryan (Jessie,) and Matthew (Jessica), and predeceased by grandson Cole.

Special thank you to Dr. Jonathan Craig, Mitch Deveau, VON and Reverend Mary Lynne White.

From a young age, Sandra was formidable. Her early years were spent outdoors climbing trees, playing ball, and building forts in the woods. Neighborhood kids who picked on her younger siblings could expect to be lodged headfirst in one of Carver Street's many snowbanks. The second child of five, Sandra was an overachiever, performing at self-directed neighborhood talent shows with her older sister, dancing the hula in grass skirts and leis, reciting poetry, or singing and dancing to Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots are Made for Walking," honing the outgoing and magnetic personality that would be her calling card.

Sandra's adventurous nature manifested in ways that would leave lesser children squeamish. As a young girl she was discovered using a doll's crib to nurse a half-frozen rat back to health, filling the neighborhood with shrieks of terror. Years later she would pierce her own ears with safety pins, challenging others to do the same. It was on April Fool's Day, her birthday, that the boys and girls would get back at her — hiding her gifts in the backyard, and making her solve a series of riddles to uncover them.

In high school, Sandra was serious, filling her evenings with long talks over cups of instant coffee with her mother, an especially warm and quick-witted woman. After graduating, she seized an opportunity to spend the summer with her sister and a distant aunt and uncle in Oregon. She was rewarded with her first real taste of freedom, being given her own car to drive for the summer, a job at the family's automotive store, and invitations to grown-up parties, from keggers to math department functions at the neighboring college. One week, her new Oregon family took her on an eye-opening trip to San Francisco's Haight Ashbury district at the height of the early '70s counterculture.

Returning to Nova Scotia with a fresh perspective, her sister and friends convinced her to go out and have fun, setting the stage for her to meet the love of her life, Raymond. For Ray, it was love at first sight. For Sandra, it would take some persuasion. Later in life, when asked whether she noticed "You are so Beautiful" by Joe Cocker playing in the jukebox all night at the Mic Mac Tavern, Sandra was sure he had been playing it for someone else. It's hard to know if the budgie story is truth or legend, but it's said that when Ray's family lost a budgie two miles away, it was Sandra who found it in her backyard and kept it as a pet.

If Sandra was serious, Raymond was not that. A practical joker, Ray delighted in making Sandra laugh, although he quickly learned that she gave as good as she got. Between trips racing Ray's Trans Am around the province, her own budding career in the provincial government, and Ray's trips at sea with the Bedford Institute of Oceanography, the two got married and started a family. One boy turned to two, then to three. Their tiny Bruce Street apartment in Dartmouth turned to a duplex on Spring Avenue, and then to "the house on Josephine," where her new role as a mother, hockey cheerleader, and band practice chauffeur would take shape. Raymond had gone back to school, supported by Sandra, and found a lucrative career in aerospace manufacturing. Everything was on a roll.

It was in 1989 that Sandra had her first encounter with cancer. The news was devastating. Treatment started immediately, but the future was uncertain. Sandra remained unflappable, helping one of the boys with a school report on the disease using her office's slick new laser printer. Luckily, the family's good fortune held out. It would be many years until they were tested again.

As their sons grew up, Sandra and Raymond remained steadfast in their love for one another. Weekends were spent on long drives up and down the eastern seaboard. Summers were spent camping and riding bikes, swimming and canoeing, picking fruit and cheering on baseball teams. Winters were spent sledding and throwing snowballs, and driving to the hockey rink and the ski hill. Sandra loved to be outside, and reslished time with Ray and the boys.

Over time, Sandra worked her way up to become the assistant to director of public prosecutions, the highest post possible for a woman with her qualifications. Family always came first, but work was never left unfinished. Sandra delighted in both the office banter and challenging nature of the job. At home, she was warm and silly, building a wall between the sometimes-harrowing nature of the cases and the rest of the family. She would spend 45 years with the public prosecutor's office, only retiring at the height of the coronavirus pandemic.

One autumn day in 2006, Ray asked Sandra out of the blue if she would agree to buying a piece of property on Waverley Road. "Okay" was her immediate reply. It was there that their Lake William dream home would take shape, where they would spend more than 15 years together, savouring weekends and evenings spent gardening, boating, fishing, and walking in nearby Shubie Park. The house in Waverley would play host to innumerable Christmases, birthday parties, barbecues, and sunsets.

As the boys grew older, summers now included trips to Europe and the Caribbean, where Sandra would happily spend all day walking, sightseeing, snorkeling, and exploring. In Japan, she grabbed a stranger whom she had known for all of 10 minutes for a big hug before saying goodbye. That's how quick it was with her — if you were her friend, you meant the world to her. She made a point of including the extended family regularly, and made time for dinners with work friends. She treated relationships with great love and care.

Over time, meals at the Waverley house began to include girlfriends, then fiancées and wives. When the new babies came, Sandra found a new purpose in life, and delighted in spoiling them. The boy echoed his father, and the girls she'd hoped for when she was younger finally arrived. She was at her happiest surrounded by the big family, eating and laughing, holding her grandchildren in her arms.

The cancer was different the next time, first showing up in her breast. There was the mastectomy, then practically overnight a new diagnosis of cholangiocarcinoma — a rare and aggressive pathology. Sandra stared it down with staggering strength and dignity throughout. Over the course of her treatment, she was always looking out for the nurses and doctors, making sure that they were comfortable, and concerning herself with the difficult nature of their jobs. She always showed tremendous compassion, right until the end.

Sandra was the star that the rest of our family orbited around. Her dazzling smile and captivating personality drew in all those who got close to her. Her life has had an immeasurable impact on our family, and her absence leaves us heartbroken. The love she shared with her husband is truly admirable, and a testament to what we can achieve when caring for each other and working as a team. We are thankful to have had her in our lives.

-—

Remember Me by Margaret Mead

To the living, I am gone.

To the sorrowful, I will never return.

To the angry, I was cheated.

But to the happy, I am at peace.

And to the faithful, I have never left.

I cannot speak, but I can listen.

I cannot be seen, but I can be heard.

So as you stand upon a shore gazing at a beautiful sea,

As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity,

Remember me.

Remember me in your heart:

Your thoughts, and your memories,

Of the times we loved,

The times we cried,

The times we fought,

The times we laughed.

For if you always think of me, I will never have gone.