A sample memorial

Sarah Chen is not a real person.

The story is composite, drawn from many families. We made this page so you can see, before you begin, what your own family will receive.

In loving memory

Sarah Lin Chen

September 30, 1984  ·  January 14, 2026
She is the one who explained how to be brave to children, then showed her own children how it is done.

Her life

Sarah Lin Chen, of Brookline, Massachusetts, died at home on the evening of January 14, 2026, at the age of 41, after a two-year journey with metastatic breast cancer. She was a pediatric nurse practitioner in oncology at Boston Children’s Hospital for fifteen years. She is survived by her husband, David Park, of Brookline; her daughter, Mia, age 8; her son, Lucas, age 5; her parents in Daly City; and her sister Lily in Brooklyn. Sarah cared for the smallest patients in the hardest unit. She knew every parent by name. She remembered their other children.

A short eulogy

Sarah made a playlist for today. She finished it in October. It is twenty-two songs long. The first one is Joni Mitchell, "The Circle Game." The last one is The Beatles, "In My Life." She picked them in an order. That was Sarah. She handed you the box and let you open it.

We had grilled cheese every Saturday morning for thirteen years. She buttered both sides of the bread. American cheese only. She said the fancy cheeses ruined the texture. I will defend that grilled cheese the rest of my life.

She wrote letters to the kids. Letters for their birthdays. Letters for graduation. A letter for Mia’s wedding day, if there is one. A letter for Lucas’s first heartbreak. They are in a box. The box is in our closet. I have not opened any of them. They are not mine. They are for the kids when she said they are for the kids.

She is the one who explained how to be brave to children. Then she showed her own children how it is done. Wait for us. Take your time. I love you so much.

Stories

From Priya Mehta, best friend: I met Sarah on the third floor of Unit 1 at Berkeley in August 2002. She was unpacking. She had folded every shirt before she put it in the drawer. She told me in May of 2024 over the phone. She said, Pri. Sit down. Then she told me. Then she said, I need you to be very specific with me right now, do not be soft, what are you going to do for the kids.

From Dr. Anjali Patel, colleague, pediatric oncology: Sarah was the nurse I called when I did not know how to tell a family. She did not tell me what to say. She would sit on the edge of my desk and she would ask me three or four questions about the child, and by the time she was done asking I knew what to say.

From Rebecca Whitford, mother of a former patient: Sarah Chen took care of my son Henry from when he was diagnosed at two until he was declared cancer-free at five. She remembered our birthdays. She remembered our anniversary. She did not have to. She did. You raised our boy.

From Lily Chen, sister: Sarah taught me how to ride a bike on Geneva Avenue when I was five. She ran behind me holding the seat and she kept saying, I have you, I have you, and then she did not have me and I was riding the bike. She did that to me a lot. She let go when I was already doing it.

Begin yours

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