Just. Like. That.

I was reminded today, via Facebook's "On this day" feature, where I was March 21, 2012...four years ago. I was sitting on the bleachers at Cook Middle School watching my oldest son play an incredible middle school baseball game. Normally, all my kids would have been there but Aubrey begged her Daddy to spend the evening with him instead. 

While we cheered on the boys, playing baseball, Aubrey spent the afternoon running around, playing with her cousins and being with her family. It was a regular Wednesday, early Spring afternoon/night. She came back happily filthy and tired, scratching mosquito bites (nothing too concerning on a child in the South) and telling funny stories. 

We all had baths, said prayers and went to sleep as always. 

Nothing about life felt different the next few days. My girl laughed and played like always. She went to school and had a great time in her kindergarten parade through the school halls. 

She ate and slept fine. On the surface, everything was right. 

Inside, the storm was brewing. 

She had a fun-filled day of fishing, family and fun on Saturday. 

Late Saturday afternoon, as it frequently did, Aubrey's head started hurting. She said her stomach wasn't feeling quite right and she was very tired. I chalked it up to her playing in the heat all day and possibly something she had eaten. 

She began to vomit later that night. I helped her bathe and wash her hair and let her soak in the tub a little while. Then, I tucked her into bed. 

Although I checked on her frequently through the night, that was the last time I ever really saw my girl. 

The last time her sweet voice said "I love you, Mama, Goodnight". 

The last time her long, perfect arms wrapped tight around my neck. 

The last time her hand ever squeezed mine back.

I will never forget the smell of her sweet, clean, wet head as I held her that night. 

I will never forget the soft, pitiful way she said goodnight. 

I will never be able to put another child to bed at night without holding my breath--just for just a second--and silently praying they wake up okay the next morning. 

I'm telling you this story because I want you all to really understand that life is unpredictable. One minute you're picking out their pajamas for bed and the next they're gone (or grown). While I pray your (and my other) children live long, happy, healthy lives we are not promised another minute with them. Make each one count. 

For the record, I don't believe what happened to Aubrey was anyone's fault. There's no blaming anyone. I don't believe her death was  preventable. It was simply her time to go live in Heaven. 

I do know that YOU can help prevent other illnesses from happening. Spray your yards for mosquitoes. Protect your families and pets against them every way possible. Clean up and keep standing water from sitting around, outside your homes. 

But above all else, LOVE each other well. Whenever the time comes, that LOVE is all you'll care that you had. Money doesn't last or make you truly happy but a lifetime of memories will. 

Live. Laugh. LOVE 

Do it for me and my Aubrey Laine.