When Ace Michael Moudy came barreling in for a hug — which he often did — he might just bowl you over.
Especially if you were a toddler, too.
“He was a tank,†his mom says. “At day care, he was always running to give everyone hugs, which turned into a tackle.â€
Megan and Mike Moudy’s baby boy weighed 9 pounds when he came into the world on Aug. 21, 2017.
The big, happy baby turned into a big, happy toddler who topped the growth charts.
His dad figured he’d be a lineman one day. Or maybe a linebacker.
His mom and her softball-loving family had their sights set on athletics, too, maybe something that involved a smaller, round ball.
Either way, he was already a Husker. Already their Ace.
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Mike and Megan met at UNL, a few years after Mike came to Nebraska from Colorado to play offensive lineman for the football team, in love with this place and its people.
Eventually, he fell in love with one Nebraskan in particular — a Husker named Megan Southworth, who grew up in Papillion and played left field for the softball team.
That’s where they were on the last night of Ace’s earthly life.
“We tell everyone he gave us the perfect night,†Megan says.
They’d driven down to Bowlin Stadium to watch the Huskers take on Northwestern that Friday, April 5.
Ace was in his element, charming strangers, dancing to the music between innings, running on the grassy berm.
Then they went home to Papillion and Mike gave Ace his bath and they sat in the rocking chair to read stories, like always. The little blond boy pointed to the cows and pigs in “Elmo’s Farm Animals†and at the animals in one of his touch-and-feel board books.
Then his dad put him to bed, like always. “He was an easy sleeper,†Mike says. “He never fussed.â€
In the morning, he was gone.
They believe Ace's death fits the profile for , when a healthy child goes to bed — or down for a nap — and never wakes up. It’s rare: one in 100,000 children between ages 1-18, according to the SUDC Foundation.
“We’re really thankful for the foundation,†Megan says. “They walked us through the whole autopsy process … connected us to doctors and other families.â€
The couple have begun genetic testing, too.
And they’ve been sharing Ace’s story because of something else that happened after they lost their only child. Something small that turned into something bigger and wrapped them up with love.
Megan is an occupational therapist at CHI Health Immanuel in Omaha. After Ace died, co-workers wanted to help. One of them contacted the Husker athletic department, hoping to create a memorial for the 19-month-old.
Maybe a plaque near the softball field?
The call made its way to Mattie Fowler, senior director of development operations and a former teammate of Megan’s, who thought maybe they could do more than that.
Mattie walked to the softball offices and talked to the coaches and staff. They came up with an idea.
And a few days after Ace’s funeral, Megan’s phone rang. It was her Husker softball coach, Rhonda Revelle.
“The dream had gotten bigger than we could ever have imagined,†Megan says.
A plan had been approved for a playground at the ballpark.
A playground with toddler-sized red slides and a red bench near the berm where Ace had played on his last night, blowing kisses to the cheerleaders, waving to strangers and galloping on his sturdy legs.
A playground that already had a name: Ace’s Place.
And a builder named Eric Crouch. And Husker alumni fundraising for the $75,000 estimated cost.
“Our goal is to honor the legacy that Ace lived every day and continue to bring that same joy to the community through this campaign,†his parents wrote on a
In a little more than two weeks, $14,000 has been raised, with donors adding encouragement to their financial contributions.
I have a little girl and couldn't imagine what I would do if something happened to her ... Husker Nation is a family. We have your back.
We don’t personally know you, but we hope this helps to build an amazing playground in memory of your sweet boy. Prayers and hugs!
Huskers stick together ... thru good and bad. God Bless you.
“I love it that Nebraska is like that,†Mike says. “It’s not just our team, not just alumni, it’s people we don’t even know. People from all over the state.â€
When Megan ended up paired with Mike for a project in a computer class at UNL, she told her friends he was the nicest guy she’d ever met.
And he thought she was the prettiest girl he’d ever met, with a personality that completed his own.
He loved her family, too.
And they both wanted to have a big family of their own.
“Early on, that was something we figured out,†Mike says. “We always wanted to have little Huskers.â€
In the three months since they lost their little boy, Ace’s parents have walked through a pain most people can’t comprehend. Some days, they feel like they are moving forward, Megan says. Some days, all they do is cry.
“Everyone deals with tragedy in life and this is ours,†Megan says. “We’re grateful that we had him for 19 months.â€
They think about this place yet to be built, a playground and a blessing rolled into one.
Megan thinks of a day down the road when she and Mike will bring their yet-to-be-born children there and tell them about the night their big brother danced and ran and blew kisses, hugged and loved by his parents on his perfect last day.