I was shocked and heart-broken for our friends. I keep looking at Jude and Lance and wondering how I would survive from day to day if something happened to either of them. I cannot imagine the heartache this family is experiencing right now. They are living in California and as a way of sending our love to them, our ward here in Charlottesville put together a book of memories, thoughts, and love for the Sanchez family. I had no idea what to write--what could I say that would help with the pain? Sarah had asked for any memories we had of Sophie or any ways she had touched our lives. Finally, I decided to write a letter to Sophie. This is what I wrote:
Sophie Sanchez
Dear Sophie,
I never saw you take your first step. I never heard your first word or even your first laugh. You moved away long before you would know who I was or how your family had helped mine acclimate to a new area full of people we didn’t know, how they became our friends and went out of their way to include us and make us feel welcome. You don’t know me, but I remember you.
I remember when your mother was pregnant with you. I remember watching her sometimes reach down and feel you kick and see her sweet smile. I remember you brother, Ethan, telling all the other kids at preschool that he was going to have another sister and how excited he was. I was pregnant at the same time, Sophie, and your mother and I would sometimes sit around and talk about the aches and pains that came with carrying a child, but also the joys children bring and how excited we were to welcome our little ones into this beautiful world.
I remember after you were born, how small you were. Your mother would carry you around in that baby Bjorn and you looked so dwarfed in it. All we could see were your skinny little legs and precious tiny feet. Your mom would take all the kids to the park and there you were, packed carefully away on your mom’s chest while she pushed one kid on the swing and helped another down a slide. Your mother was my hero and I wanted to be just like her.
I remember before your family moved to California. You had grown into the Bjorn a bit better and we could see your alert little face peeking out at the world around you, taking everything in. I remember the preschool kids would run up and talk to you and try to get you to smile, and then would run over to me or the other parents and tell us what sound you made, or how your face looked. Everyone loved you—your sweet face, your beautiful curly hair, your fair skin.
You don’t know me, Sophie, but I wanted to say “Thank you”. Thank you for reminding me of the important role I have as a mother, to cherish each precious moment I have with my children. Thank you for helping me find the patience to respond to frustrating situations with a smile instead of harsh words that could hurt. Thank you for the wake-up call so I remember to go ride bikes with Lance or play blocks with Jude even when I’m tired or would rather be doing something else. Thank you for reminding me that every day is a gift. No one knows what tomorrow will bring, what joys or heartache, treasures or sorrows. Thank you for helping me realize I need to live each day so when I lay down at night, I can be at peace knowing I am living life to it’s fullest, that I am loving and serving my family.
Finally, thank you, Sophie, for reminding me why I read my scriptures and go to Church and pray even when it’s hard. The Gospel is true—I know it. I know we will meet again. I know your parents will have the opportunity to raise you, to be with you. You will once again be with your brother and sisters, healthy and happy. You are theirs forever, their precious baby Sophie.
Love,
Heather Glass
They are holding a Memorial service this Sunday for their Sophie. Our heart goes out to you, Sarah and Sergio.
They are holding a Memorial service this Sunday for their Sophie. Our heart goes out to you, Sarah and Sergio.






















