Walking in the Footsteps of my Former Self

I went back to Little Tesoros (the place where Lucy had physical and occupational therapy) for the first time this morning. I haven’t been there since her last therapy session two days before she died.

I remember driving into that parking lot with my two kids. It was cold then, too. I remember wiping them down with Wet Wipes repeatedly to protect from germs. I remember skirting the smoking section on the way to the door. I remember the white blossoms from the tree out back blanketing the car by the end of the session.

I remember walking up to those glass doors every time and seeing the reflection of me with Max’s hand in mine, Lucy on my left hip. Seeing that reflection made me forget my worries for a moment every time. One of the last times, Max was running next to me laughing.

I pulled into a parking space, texted all of this to my husband, and cried. Then I drove away.

I went back to Dell Children’s last August. It was the first time since Lucy died. It was a few days before I found out Baby Bean was dead. That’s why I haven’t written about it yet. I have felt drawn there since Lucy died. It feels like home in a strange way. It feels like part of her is there and I can find her somehow. Weirdly enough, I almost look forward to spending the night there for Max’s tonsillectomy. I know it will be traumatic and yet, it will feel like we are all together again. We will be back in the place where we spent so much time with Lucy.

They have a beautiful new Healing Garden. They were building it during Lucy’s time there. You should definitely check it out if you get the chance. 


I wanted to go to Lucy’s old room in the PICU, but I don’t think you can go in there without permission. I did visit the waiting area where we spent a considerable amount of time waiting when she was admitted last February. Those were the last moments our family would really spend together for three weeks. I can feel that very strongly there. Others see an empty, annoying waiting room. But I see treasured, albeit sad, memories there.







I get so close to finding Lucy. She is always here. She just is not dead to me. She is never far from my thoughts. She is constantly by my side. But I can’t touch her. I can’t see her. She is gone forever, yet she is ever present. Sometimes, as I move forward, I will continue to step back, and retrace the steps of my former self, and try to reach her through the veil, if only for just a moment.


  1. Debi shaw said,

    October 23, 2013 at 1:33 pm

    Hi Sara. Lucy and Max will be with you forever, one way or another. Beautiful.

  2. Crystal said,

    October 23, 2013 at 1:56 pm

    I can’t find the words–but I just couldn’t read something so personal and heartrending and not reply. I feel compelled to tell you that I was here, that I see what you’re experiencing, and I bear witness to your grief.

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