Andy Paul Southard

Remembering You

Andy was the kind of man who inspired just by existing, he never demanded greatness, never coerced kindness. Only his mere proximity to you compelling you to match his integrity, compassion and joy. The sentiment shared with me numerous times over the past two weeks has “Andy made me want to be a better, father, husband, soldier. A better man.” My husbands legacy is saturated in love, the same way his life was. We often use the term balance when we talk about family and work, but balance indicates a divide and that just seems less than what Andy gave both to his job and his family and his friends. Somehow he possessed a bottomless well of work ethic, love, and attention to everything he had passion for. Andy’s dream was to be a 160th Blackhawk crew chief. His passion wasn’t just for the flight but for the crew beside him and the friendships he forged under those crossed blades. His passion and devotion to that was evident every time he walked in the door postflight. I saw him tired, I saw him aching, but I never saw him without that spark that can only come from doing exactly what you love. I can’t help but appreciate the symbolism of a man who rivaled the sun, serving in the clouds. Andy died amongst the brothers he shared an inseparable bond with, in a company he was so proud to be apart of. My husband died serving his country but more than that he died living the dream. The only thing Andy loved more than his job, was his family. He wasn’t just our children’s father, he was the keeper of the magic, the dinosaur to ride through the halls of our home, the airplane kid flyer, the best pancake maker and the greatest adventure our children cherished all in compassed in the man they called Daddy and Andy. When our daughter was born anytime she woke during the night, he was right beside me. He couldn’t breastfeed, he couldn’t console her the way she needed a mothers touch to do but he was right there asking if I needed water or a snack or just moral support. He was a man who never knew what an excuse was. Long flights, hard days, green platoon black eyes, tests the next day, it didn’t matter. He showed up in every moment without hesitation and full of grace. Andy wasn’t just my husband but my best friend. We grew our love on a foundation built from late night laughs, really bad jokes, and his willingness to look past my tendency to cheat at Uno. To be loved by a man like Andy is to know an infinite amount of happiness. A love that radiated peace and transcended fairytales because in the fairy tales Prince Charming shows up at the end to save the princess. But Andy jumped in at once upon a time and showed me how to save myself and loved me through every chapter. The vast emptiness I feel, that we all feel from his loss is just a testament to how colossal his existence was. I feel beyond lucky that he chose me to share a life with, to raise our babies with and to grow old beside. The weight of the grief that he won’t be by my side as I grow old without him is a suffocating pain. But unending grief can only be a result of unending love. So today as we say goodbye to the man who gave it all, I ask you to keep his legacy alive by living the way he would want us all to do; with an insatiable passion for adventure, an unforgettable love for those who mean the most, and an absolute reckless abandon for the thrill of being alive. Wheels are down, skies are clear and now I only wish you were here, my love. I’ll love you with every breath that brings me one moment closer to you again.