The sound of the tide rolling in then returning to the sea. Tenacious seagulls tossed like papers in the wind, their plaintive calls echoing off the dunes.

In a messy mound of sand sits three pairs of shoes. You can easily see they belong to a mom, dad, and small child. What you can't see is the fourth pair; pink canvas sneakers.

There used to be four. Four pairs of shoes half-buried in the sand. Four beach towels, four folding chairs, and so many memories to make beneath one brightly striped canopy.

But this summer, memories have replaced the fourth pair of shoes. Sweet little Sarabelle didn't make it to the beach this summer. She breathed her last, cradled in her parents' arms, her little fist holding onto her favorite shell. She found it resting in the sand one morning last summer. She always wanted to be the first on the beach to collect what gifts the tide surrendered to the shore. This gift, an otherwise ordinary, yet still intact, nautilus shell, washed up on the sand by a sometimes unforgiving sea. Akin to life itself, the sea oscillates between carefree, calm waves, and, when we least expect it, a storm brings on mighty swells. Our raft capsizes, and we have no lifeboat. Negotiating with the sea isn't an option; it's oblivious to our prayers and pleas.

Last year Sarabelle complained about the sand in her shoes. As much as she loved building grand sand castles and chasing the sea foam that followed the receding tide, she was less than fond of the feeling of sand in her shoes.

What this family of three wouldn't do to hear her complaints just once more. Her pink little sneakers covered in sand.

Some ask where new souls go. Some say Sarabelle won her fight against the deadly disease that swiftly claimed the life that should have lasted longer. Some feel she fought a valiant fight before she "gained her angel wings." But no one says she failed to teach us a lesson.

A huge lesson.

Her story is one for you to know and share. Only if this blog post were titled "Another Sweet Summer at the Shore." Ideally this post about Sarabelle still building sand castles, gathering shells and chasing sea foam.

"Only if's" don't bring her back. So we cherish our memories and all that she was. In her honor, we do all that she did and try to conjure up all that she could have been. We try to learn from the lessons she left.

One lesson lingers above all, and leaves us longing for her so much more; sand in our shoes is but a small price to pay for shoes in the sand.

Tranquility and sanity surround us like the salty water hugs the rocks on the jetty. Hugs are what they miss most about their beautiful girl. Oh, and her shoes in the sand.