Her Journey

June 14, 2025 — November 5, 2025

The Beginning

On the early morning of June 14th, 2025 at 4:25 AM, Alicia Mae Lopez entered the world at McLaren Hospital in Lansing, Michigan. At 6 pounds, 9 ounces, she was perfectly healthy in every way. Her parents, Sarah and Caleb, welcomed her as their third child together and the fifth child in their beautiful blended family.

From the moment she opened her eyes, something remarkable was clear—Alicia had striking blue eyes, a beautiful surprise given that both parents have brown eyes. Those blue eyes would become one of her most captivating features, eyes that didn't just look at you but stared through you, seeing the world with an intensity and wonder that left everyone mesmerized.

With long, wavy, thick black-brown hair that framed her face beautifully, Alicia was named after her great-grandmother, a woman of warmth, kindness, and love. Tragically, her namesake passed away just one week after Alicia was born, on June 25th, 2025. But in those seven precious days, a torch was passed—a legacy that the younger Alicia would carry forward in her own brief but luminous time.

Her Personality

Alicia was pure joy incarnate. She hardly ever cried. If she wasn't hungry, needed a diaper change, or was tired, she was laughing, smiling, or simply enjoying the world around her. Her smile was constant, her laugh infectious and just beginning to fully bloom. To her mother, she was affectionately known as "little goose," a nickname that captured her gentle, sweet nature perfectly.

"Mommy's little goose"

She loved mornings and never slept through the night, always making sure Daddy was at attention with a bottle, a diaper change, or just to tuck her back in. These midnight moments, though exhausting, became some of the most precious memories—quiet hours when it was just father and daughter, the world asleep around them.

Her favorite spot was on the couch watching Barney with her big sister Bean. Purple became her color—not just any purple, but a royal purple like Barney himself. She loved food, from her bottles to getting little tastes of solids as she began exploring new flavors and textures. Every feeding was an adventure, every new taste a discovery.

Her Family

As the baby of five children, Alicia completed their family beautifully. She adored her big sister Everly (Bean), and her three older brothers: Mateo (Tao, her littlest big brother), Bennett (Ben Ben, the middle brother), and Elijah (Eli, her biggest brother). Each sibling had their own special bond with her, their own way of making her giggle, their own precious memories.

At four months old, Alicia was just beginning to discover herself. She was learning to sit up, starting to roll over, and had just begun to babble—those first precious sounds that would have soon become words, then sentences, then stories. She was on the cusp of so many milestones, each one eagerly anticipated by parents who documented every smile, every new achievement.

"Her stare could see right through you"

Her Only Holiday

Alicia experienced only one holiday with her family—Halloween 2025. She was dressed as a strawberry, adorable and perfect, surrounded by her siblings in their costumes. There would be no Thanksgiving turkey dinners, no Christmas mornings opening presents, no birthday candles to blow out. But that one Halloween, captured in photos and memory, showed a baby girl who brought sweetness to every moment.

The Day That Changed Everything

November 2nd, 2025, started like any other morning. Between 8:30 and 9:00 AM, Alicia was on the couch next to Bean, who had just helped feed her a bottle. She was happy, smiling with those bright blue eyes, watching Barney on TV. Her parents were cleaning throughout the house. As Caleb passed by, he saw her still sitting there on the couch, and she smiled at him. That was the last clear look he got of her face.

Shortly after 9:00 AM, when Caleb went to check on her in their bedroom, everything changed. Alicia was lying on the bed, on her stomach, her face turned toward the window. When he picked her up, there was no resistance, no tensing, no life. Just weight. He called for Sarah, and within moments, they were performing CPR while calling 911.

EMS arrived and rushed her to Sparrow Hospital in Lansing. After 40 minutes without a heartbeat, the medical team managed to bring her back. She fought. Her heart kept beating on its own after that first shock. But the damage had been done. She was airlifted to Mott Children's Hospital at the University of Michigan, where advanced care awaited.

For two days, her family held vigil. The EEG showed no brain activity. CT scans revealed traumatic brain injury that was worsening. Doctors gently explained what everyone could already see—Alicia was gone. Her body remained, kept alive by machines, but the bright, curious little girl who stared through people with those remarkable blue eyes had already left.

Her Final Gift

In their darkest hour, Sarah and Caleb made a decision that honored Alicia's generous spirit. They chose organ donation, allowing their daughter's brief life to save and improve others. For two days, they waited for a match, moving between the hospital room and the family lounge, suspended in grief and hope that something good could come from this tragedy.

"She could save someone else"

On November 5th, 2025, the family gathered for their final goodbye. Alicia lay in her hospital bed surrounded by her toys, her beloved bear at her feet, with a beautiful view of woods stretching for miles beyond the hospital tower. Her last recorded heartbeat was 79 beats per minute. She wore a bow, and the family received a flag in her honor.

The hospital staff created something beautiful—an honor walk. They lined the hallways, holding lights and phones, creating a path of light as they guided Alicia to her final rest. Her mother, father, grandparents, aunt, and all the medical staff who had cared for her walked together down the halls, took the elevator down, and each took one final moment to hold her.

At 2:06 PM on November 5th, 2025, Alicia Mae Lopez left this world.

Her First Miracle

As the family stood in the hospital lobby, surrounded by flowers, stuffed animals, and cards, there was one odd thing—a balloon. Sarah noticed a gentleman nearby with his caretaker, someone clearly living with cognitive challenges but radiating joy through his laughter. Unprompted, Sarah walked over and asked if he'd like the balloon.

His face lit up. He said he had to tell his mom that he got a balloon. As they walked away down the hallway, his screech of pure joy echoed back. That was the first person Alicia helped after she was gone.

"She didn't save just one life—she saved a day"

And day by day, that's how we all get by.

Her Memory Lives On

The staff at Mott Children's Hospital gave the family a stuffed elephant with a tag that read "An elephant never forgets." It became the symbol of Alicia's memory—the idea that she would never be forgotten, that her brief life mattered, that love doesn't end when breathing stops.

Through the Alicia Mae Foundation, her legacy continues. Through organ donation, she saved lives. Through her family's choice to share her story, she touches hearts. Through the memories held by everyone who knew her—even for just four months—she remains present, loved, unforgotten.

"An elephant never forgets"

Four months was all the time she needed to teach us everything. That smile, that stare, that infectious laugh just beginning—they showed us how to be present, how to love deeply, how to find joy in mornings and midnight bottle feedings and purple dinosaurs on TV.

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