Reflecting on Andy’s life, it’s clear he was quietly at the core of my community. We met freshman year, but our friendship deepened significantly in the following years and most certainly after college, relying on each other for advice and guidance as we found our way as adults.

While some might say he was shy, I would say that he was more quietly attentive and listening. To me, that seemed to be his default setting something I always appreciated.

His “superpower,” in my opinion, was his deep curiosity. Whether exploring his passions like music, coffee, or whatever new interest his children undertook … he always sought to understand a thing from the inside out. This was also true in his relationships with his friends; he asked probing, clear questions, always listening intently and leading the conversation forward.

That defining “Classic Andy” moment in Georgetown during my senior year of college (his first year working) after an embarrassing and failed attempt I made to ask out a bartender. I steeled my courage, telling Andy I would give it one last attempt when he looked at me and said with perfect finality, “Brian, leave with your dignity.” It was a hilarious, yet truly Andy, moment. He was looking out for me. It taught me a lot.

I found Andy’s ability to remain grounded through struggles was impactful. He always was grounded in his faith and in knowing he had value in Christ. I appreciated how Andy taught me that and helped me find my value and worth in Jesus.