Finding hope and healing in Hawaii
After their young daughter died from a rare disease, a long-needed vacation brought Lindzi Scharf and her husband peace, joy, and the chance for reflection
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“I wanna write her name in the sky,” croons a Hawaiian shirt-clad musician, playing a ukulele in the pristine white lobby of the Fairmont Kea Lani, where my family and I are vacationing in Wailea, Hawaii. My husband Michael and I extend our arms into the air and write “E-V-A-N” in sign language, a habit we’ve adopted every time we hear Tom Petty’s Free Fallin’.
Michael chokes back tears, a tight smile on his face as he dances with our 17-month-old son Reid in his arms. A picture-perfect sky and palm trees sway behind them, seemingly in rhythm with the song. Meanwhile, I capture it all on my iPhone—knowing how precious these moments are, and that I’ll want to revisit the memory long after this trip has ended.

“I’m gonna free fall out into nothing,” we sing, as Reid and his windswept hair enjoy the gentle breeze. “Gonna leave this world for a while.”
The song feels like a sign from our daughter Evan, who passed away just before her fourth birthday in 2022. We played Free Fallin’ every night before putting her to sleep—with the understanding and fear that she might not wake up the next day.
For nearly four years, we lived in a perpetual state of fight or flight after Evan was born with an extremely rare, terminal mitochondrial disease, which couldn’t have been prenatally detected. After a series of puzzling symptoms, she was given the diagnosis at four months old and we were told she would never walk, talk, or thrive. Our world was turned upside down.
We eventually found that, despite those limitations, Evan had a zest for life and was always fully aware of her surroundings. In between lengthy and constant hospital visits, we attempted to give her a taste of the good life with staycations in Southern California where we live, since anywhere we traveled needed to be near a children’s hospital. No matter that packing involved more than a dozen medications that needed to be administered multiple times each day, as well as an emergency room letter that would need to be presented if—God forbid—an emergency took place.
We decided we owed ourselves and our son Reid the gift of travel
Another priority on our list of items to be packed—right next to her floral swimsuits—was her overnight feeding pump since she could only receive food and nutrients through a gastrostomy tube. “Are those golf clubs?” a valet once asked as he unpacked our bags from the car. It was the pole for her feed, we explained.
We relished giving Evan beautiful experiences—and despite being non-verbal, she made it clear she always appreciated being somewhere special. She would squeal and her eyes would twinkle whenever she was particularly pleased. We brought her to Calamigos Ranch in Malibu and spent her third birthday at their beach club staring out at the ocean; she lounged by the pool at the Terranea Resort in Rancho Palos Verdes as we waited for confirmation that I was pregnant with Reid; and she spent Christmas exploring the Montecito Country Mart on our way to a family vacation in Santa Barbara.
The latter was our last trip together before our son Reid was born and before we learned our daughter was experiencing heart failure, the result of her disease.

After Evan passed in April 2022, we spent the next 12 months visiting family who had traveled to be by our side time and again over the past few years. The idea of an actual vacation seemed foreign and far-fetched. But we eventually decided we owed it to ourselves and to our son Reid to give him the gift of travel—just as we wished we could have done for Evan.
We spontaneously booked a week-long trip to Hawaii. Before having children, we annually attended the Maui Film Festival where we watched movies under the stars. We’d dine at Mama’s Fish House, where I learned to love seafood. We’d do cartwheels around a lavender farm; since closed, sadly, but its scent still takes me back to an era of innocent joy. And so Michael and I returned to our happy place with heavy hearts and with our son—plus a suitcase packed with cheerful, pint-sized Hawaiian shirts.
The first morning, we woke up to the sound of a rooster, crowing beneath the terrace of our hotel, which overlooked a cotton-candy sky and a dazzling blue ocean. Those roosters woke us up every day and followed us everywhere we went, much to Reid’s delight.
She is there with us, in every crashing wave and glorious sunset
Each morning, before our daily adventures, we swam in the hotel pool. Reid’s bright eyes—as blue as the island’s skies—were filled with wonder as he fearlessly leapt off the pool ledge and into Michael’s arms. We followed our son’s lead. In lieu of retracing steps, we embraced paths unknown. We hit up fuss-free pizza and taco trucks, visited a surfboard-filled goat farm, and hiked a lava-lined trail with a view of Maui’s southern coastline, one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen.
At the Surfing Goat Dairy farm, Reid fed and fell in love with goats. He opened his arms wide to hug and kiss them. They didn’t seem to mind; just as he didn’t mind when they started to eat his shirt. While hiking the Hoapili Trail, Reid lost a shoe between the rocks. It was swept away by the water before we could reach it. The casualty of a good time.

We enjoyed a walk in the clouds and breathtaking sunset 10,000 feet above sea level at Haleakalā National Park; we got up-close-and-personal with sea turtles and sharks at the Maui Ocean Center, a three-acre aquarium in Maalaea; and had a memorable meal eating grilled cheese and watching Polynesian dancers at Hula Grill in Kaanapali.
But perhaps the memory that lingers most is the taste of salt on my lips from kissing Reid’s cheek after he’d been in the ocean. Most evenings, we sat on the beach, with Reid giggling as he threw sand at us. He loved digging his hands into the shore as a gentle tide washed over his arms and legs. We kept a watchful eye to make sure he wouldn’t wash away with it. Time was going by too quickly—on this trip and in life.
Reid loves the water much more than Evan did, but she loved being at the beach. The crashing of the waves had a calming effect on her. Sometimes the sound feels like a reminder that her soul is dancing alongside ours. Other times it’s a reminder that things should have been different.
I’ve had mixed emotions about taking our first major vacation without Evan. But as I hear that musician strumming Petty’s iconic chords, I realize she is right there with us. In every crashing wave and glorious sunset. Which is why we write her name in the sand and in the sky. Then put one (sometimes bare) foot in front of the other. Because Evan and Reid deserve it.
The writer visited Maui before the August 2023 wildfires, which took 98 lives and damaged more than 2,200 structures. As its community rebuilds, Maui’s governor Josh Green is urging tourists to return to support the island’s economic growth, which is tourism-dependent.

Lindzi Scharf
Writer
Lindzi Scharf is a writer and producer, and the founder of the website The Retaility. Her work has appeared in The Los Angeles Times, WWD, Variety, The Hollywood Reporter, and more.
Lindzi, Michael and Reid’s memorable Maui stops

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