A Hole in the Sand, A Hole in the Heart: Remembering Sloan Mattingly
It was supposed to be a simple joy—a family vacation, a warm beach, two children playing in the sand. But on February 20, 2024, at Lauderdale-by-the-Sea in Florida, that joy turned into heartbreak. Seven-year-old Sloan Mattingly, visiting from Fort Wayne, Indiana, was buried alive when the sand hole she and her brother were digging collapsed. Her death was sudden, devastating, and deeply symbolic of how fragile even the most innocent moments can be.
This is not just a story about tragedy. It’s a story about a child whose life, though brief, left an imprint on everyone who knew her—and now, on those who didn’t.
The Innocence of Play
Children dig holes in the sand every day. It’s a ritual of beach life—hands deep in the earth, laughter echoing in the wind, the thrill of discovery beneath the surface. Sloan and her brother Maddox were doing just that, building a world of their own, unaware of the danger that lay beneath.
The hole was deep—reports say nearly six feet. When it collapsed, Sloan was completely buried. Maddox, just nine years old, was trapped up to his neck. Beachgoers rushed to help, digging with their hands, calling 911, doing everything they could to save the children. Emergency responders arrived quickly, using boards and shovels to stabilize the sand and extract the siblings.
But it was too late for Sloan.
A Family Shattered
Therese and Jason Mattingly, Sloan’s parents, had brought their children to Florida to escape the Indiana winter. It was meant to be a time of warmth, laughter, and bonding. Instead, they found themselves living every parent’s worst nightmare.
In a statement shared on their GoFundMe page, Sloan’s mother wrote, “Please refrain from offering condolences; instead, cherish the memories of our pure-hearted Sloan, who has forever changed us with her presence”. Her words are not just grief—they are a plea to remember Sloan not for how she died, but for how she lived.
Who Was Sloan?
Sloan Mattingly was a first-grade student at Lafayette Meadows Elementary School. Her teachers described her as bright, sweet, and loving. She was the kind of child who lit up a room, who made friends easily, who carried joy in her pocket and handed it out freely.
She was curious. She was kind. She was seven and a half years old.
And now, she is gone.
The Ripple Effect
The news of Sloan’s death spread quickly, prompting an outpouring of grief from her school, her community, and strangers across the country. Her classmates were offered counseling. Her teachers held space for mourning. Her story became a symbol—not just of loss, but of the need for awareness.
The American Lifeguard Association issued a warning about the dangers of digging deep holes in the sand, advocating for increased beach patrols and emergency training. Sloan’s death became a catalyst for change, a heartbreaking reminder that even play must be protected.
The Fragility of Joy
There’s something haunting about the image of a child buried in sand. Sand is soft. Sand is playful. Sand is supposed to be safe. But it can also be heavy, unstable, and unforgiving.
Sloan’s story forces us to confront the fragility of joy. It reminds us that life can change in an instant. That the things we take for granted—sunshine, laughter, family—can be swept away without warning.
And yet, it also reminds us to cherish those moments more deeply.
A Community Responds
In Fort Wayne, Indiana, Sloan’s hometown, the community rallied around the Mattingly family. Donations poured in. Messages of love and remembrance filled social media. Her school held a memorial. Her name became a prayer.
But grief is not just communal—it’s personal. For Maddox, who survived the collapse, the trauma will linger. For her parents, the absence will echo through every room, every holiday, every ordinary day that now feels extraordinary in its emptiness.
What We Carry Forward
We cannot undo what happened. We cannot bring Sloan back. But we can carry her forward.
We can remember her smile. We can honor her spirit. We can tell her story—not just as a cautionary tale, but as a tribute to a life that mattered.
We can teach our children to play safely. We can advocate for better beach safety measures. We can hold our loved ones a little closer, knowing how quickly they can be taken.
A Legacy of Light
Sloan’s mother wrote, “Our love for you knows no bounds, our sweet Sloan. We would give anything to have you back”. That love is now her legacy. It lives in the hearts of those who knew her. It lives in the changes being made to protect other children. It lives in the stories we tell.
And it lives in the sand—where she played, where she laughed, where she was last seen.
Conclusion: A Name We Remember
Sloan Mattingly. Seven years old. Buried in the sand. But not forgotten.
Her story is a reminder that every life, no matter how brief, has meaning. That every child deserves safety, joy, and remembrance. That grief, when honored, can become a force for healing.
We remember Sloan not for the hole that took her, but for the light she gave. And in that remembrance, we find warmth.
If you’d like this adapted into a eulogy, tribute video script, or commemorative essay for sharing, I’d be honored to help shape it further.
