Tribute for Sarah Stanley:
There are people who come into our lives and quietly change everything. They bring with them laughter, comfort, wisdom, and an indescribable sense of home. They become woven into the fabric of who we are—not just through years and moments, but through an unspoken bond of the heart. Sarah Stanley was that person.
It is with broken hearts and trembling hands that we say goodbye to Sarah, who passed away far too soon, leaving behind a world that is dimmer without her radiant spirit. For those of us who loved her, this is not just a loss—it is the loss. The absence of her voice, her presence, her love will echo in the quiet mornings, the still afternoons, and those shared glances that only sisters and soul friends understand.
Mornings will never be the same. They used to begin with a phone call—simple, yet sacred. A ritual of sisterhood. Her voice on the other end of the line brought not just news of the day, but light. Laughter. Comfort. Wisdom. No matter what the world was throwing my way, Sarah always knew just what to say. She had this gift—an instinct, really—for reaching into your heart and offering exactly what you needed before you even realized you needed it.
One of my favorite memories with Sarah took place in Arizona, a moment that still makes me smile through the tears. We hadn’t coordinated or planned a thing, and yet when we met at the airport baggage claim, there we stood—in identical outfits. Same gold jewelry, same everything. The kind of coincidence that would feel odd with anyone else, but with Sarah? It was just us. No one could laugh like we could—pure, joyful, unfiltered laughter. That moment was Sarah in a nutshell: effortless connection, beauty, and a shared magic that needed no explanation.
Sarah was style. Not just in the way she dressed (though she could walk into any room and instantly elevate it with her flair), but in the way she lived. She approached life with grace, confidence, and an authenticity that drew people in. Whether it was a spontaneous girls trip or an everyday errand, Sarah made it feel special. She had a way of turning the mundane into moments that shimmered.
And goodness, did she love those trips. Getaways with Sarah weren’t just about escaping; they were about recharging your soul. She had a gift for curating joy—finding just the right place to stay, the right restaurant, the perfect song for the drive. And always, always, there was laughter. Those trips weren’t just vacations—they were sanctuaries. And they were hers to give.
Sarah was more than my sister—she was my forever friend. The kind of friend that life gives you once, if you’re lucky. She was there through it all: the tears, the milestones, the quiet late-night confessions. She was the keeper of my secrets, the person I called with good news or no news at all. We shared more than memories—we shared a rhythm of life that now feels off-beat without her.
Her impact didn’t stop with me. Sarah was the kind of person who touched everyone she met. She was the woman who would help a stranger with a flat tire, stay on the phone with a friend in crisis for hours, or send a handwritten card just because she sensed someone needed it. Her empathy ran deep, and her loyalty ran deeper. To be loved by Sarah was to be truly seen, understood, and celebrated.
It’s impossible to fully articulate what it feels like to lose someone like her. It feels like forgetting how to breathe. Like hearing your favorite song in a minor key. The world still turns, but it doesn’t feel quite right. And yet, in this grief, there is gratitude—gratitude for every shared laugh, every matching outfit, every 6:00 a.m. phone call, every “I love you” we didn’t hold back. Sarah leaves behind more than memories. She leaves a legacy. A legacy of love, strength, and unapologetic joy. She taught us to live brightly, to give generously, and to love without hesitation. She showed us what it means to show up—fully, deeply, and with open arms.
Even in her absence, Sarah is still with us. She’s in every morning sunrise. In the way we throw our heads back when we laugh. In the gold hoops that still hang in our closets. In the instinct to call someone just because we felt them on our heart. She’s in mirrored moments and twin outfits, in spontaneous travel plans, and in those little signs that whisper, “She’s here.”
We are not ready to say goodbye. We never would have been. But what we can say is this: Sarah, we love you. We miss you. And we will carry you with us in everything we do. You were the sparkle in our days, the sister we leaned on, the friend who knew all the words to our soul’s song. You were, and always will be, ours.
We promise to honor you in the way we live. To laugh more. To love harder. To dress boldly and travel often. To call the people we care about, even when we think we have nothing to say. Because that’s what you would’ve done. That’s what you taught us to do. Sarah Stanley, you were one of a kind. And now, Heaven is just a little more fabulous, a little more joyful, and a whole lot brighter.