Our Last Day

Two years ago, today, was my last real day with Aubrey.

I was busy that day, preparing a large meal and cleaning the house. Then I was entertaining the family for my mother-in-law's birthday. I thought that day was important but for all the wrong reasons. While the house looked great and the food was delicious and we all had a great time, those are not the things I've thought about and missed every minute of every day since. 

What I vividly remember is looking outside at my six-year-old daughter throughout the day. Laughing, playing, fishing. Watching her jumping on the trampoline and seeing that shiny, straight, brown hair flying everywhere. Hearing her loud, contagious giggles as she went up and down on the see-saw. How every time she reeled in another fish, she'd say "boooys!!" in her sassy, boastful voice and then want to come in and show me. 

Then I remember all too well how pitiful she was when she came inside so sick and needing her Mama. The last time I would ever try to make my last-born child feel better. The very last time tucking her sweet, wet head and little pajama-clad body into bed. The last kisses and "I love you" and "goodnight baby/Mama". That was it. March 24, 2012 was the very last time I heard her sweet voice tell me what I'd give my life to hear again. I'd gladly breathe my last breath to hear just one "I love you, Mama" from her perfect lips. 

I have looked back so many times and just wish I could've known. I don't know that I would want to go through her whole life knowing it would be too short. I wouldn't have let her live life her way...the best way. I think I would've been far too protective and more controlling. I think that would be an even bigger curse than waking up one day and knowing it would be the last. No...that would be bad for everyone. 

What I would have liked is to be able to soak her in, every second of that last day, like I never had before. To be able to tell her every single thing I ever wanted her to know. To hold her so close for hours. I would like to smell her hair and kiss her face, especially on that perfect spot right at the top of her nose. That place where all my nighttime and sick-baby kisses landed. 

I can't go back in time. No one can. So take the time today, tomorrow and everyday and LOVE them like there is no tomorrow. For some of us, there isn't. 

Mosquitoes: The Devil's Spawn

Just 1 week shy of the 2nd anniversary of Aubrey's death and mosquitoes are starting to swarm. The panic is starting inside of me. I am begging you all to SPRAY YOUR YARDS monthly AND YOUR KIDS every time they go outside and use a thermacell (http://www.thermacell.com/).
This "tiny little insect" KILLS PEOPLE!! It only takes ONE bite from ONE bug.
Encephalitis, West Nile, etc. These are very real diseases and have taken the lives of two people (and countless animals) I personally know, including my precious daughter at just 6-years-old.
DO NOT take risks! Protect yourself and everyone around you. LOVE

LOCALS: **For great professional service, call 227-740-1183 Harry Flythe ... Flythe Land Maintenance and Mosquito control**

The Darkness

As I sit and watch a nearly cloudless sunset, tears stream down my face. I have to remind myself to breathe. I don't have the option of letting go or disappearing. Life won't let me. No, LOVE won't let me. 

It's crazy how fast things change. That sun was here, shining down and warming the earth all day and now it's gone. I watched it slip behind the tree line so quickly. Now it's getting very dark. The world is growing quiet. No more birds singing or children laughing. The busy buzz of life in the air has stopped. Just a chilly darkness and silence. 

It seems life can go this way. One day, you're basking in the glow of perfection that only your child can bring. The next, it's all fading away and you're left with cold, dark emptiness. 

Nothing eases the pain of losing your child. There is nothing natural about burying your baby (of any age). There isn't even a word for a bereaved parent. A spouse becomes a widow or widower. A child becomes an orphan. What does a parent become? Lost...broken...empty. 

The daily life of a bereaved parent is nothing short of war. It is a complete battle. Grief is something we will never fully overcome. Sure, there will be good times. We will praise God and love others and laugh and enjoy life. However in all things there is a pause, a sigh. There is a chill to every warmth and a bad to every good. I would not wish this void on anyone. No one deserves this kind of pain. 

I try to remind myself that each day that passes is one closer to Heaven. I say "soon and very soon". The truth is, Heaven is so very far away and I know I have a long life to live...a life without my Aubrey Laine. 

Please pray for me and for all the parents who have lost their child. 

March

March is here. Sigh. 

My entire life I have looked forward to this month's arrival. It meant Spring was almost here. It's the month of my birthday. As a child (and a parent), I've always looked forward to enjoying Spring Break and then celebrating Easter (my absolute favorite holiday). March was, by far, my favorite month. 

Then, on March 25, 2012, the darkest week of our lives happened and changed everything. As if losing Aubrey wasn't bad enough, it happened on my birthday. A day normally reserved for my own personal celebration would be no more. That day...the entire month...will forever hold memories of the unimaginable. Celebrating my life seems impossible when it correlates with the death of my daughter. 

As a mother, we are supposed to want the very best for our children. Nothing could be better than Heaven, I know. Aubrey is safe and happy and healthy. She is in the arms of our Heavenly Father. 

But I am here and she is there. I am a Mama without her baby. It is a small death I have to die every single day. Losing Aub was my greatest disappointment. Trying to live a completely happy life...a fully purposeful life...without Aubrey here with me is something I will never achieve. Nothing can ever fill the void that losing my only daughter left inside of me. Her piece of my heart and soul is and will always be hers alone. 

Please keep in mind as you go though your hectic lives that your children are a miracle and a blessing. Parenthood is the hardest job you will ever have. It is also the most rewarding one and a gift that not everyone is lucky enough to have. I pray that none of you ever has to know the pain of losing a child and that your children will live long, healthy lives. Just for me, though, do this one life-altering thing: 

LOVE them as if each moment is your very last. Regardless of the amount of time you have with them, your lives will forever be richer.