Don’t skip my other post, from earlier today!

A few days ago, Kaitlyn and I were eating dinner. Mom was feeding the baby so it was just the two of us chatting about whatever came to mind. Markers, school, our favorite stickers, French colonialism. Then Kaitlyn turns to me and says, “Are you going to die?”

I almost did, right there. Whatever we were eating quickly became lodged in my throat.

As I regained my ability to breathe, and my composure, I quickly began to think of a response while I stalled.

I said, “Yes honey. We’re all going to die some day. Even you. And your baby sister. And then we’ll find out that the existentialists were all right, and there’s no heaven. We’ll wallow in a dark afterlife that’s filled with despair, boredom and Donny Osmond.”

Then she cried.

Actually, I wondered if she knew something and wasn’t sharing. You know how dogs can sense earthquakes? Maybe kids can feel their parents’ imminent doom. Or maybe she was planning to bump me off for the insurance money. Perhaps she was still upset because I told her that she wasn’t allowed to marry Ben. Not now, not ever, not with any boy!

We had a nice conversation, actually. We talked about what it meant to die. That I would be around until she was very, very old and I would always take care of her. I explained that I would do anything to be around for as long as possible. I swore that I would never be away from her. That I would never forsake her. I wrote a freakin’ epic poem about how I’ll always be by her side.

“So, you’re not going to die,” she asked.

“No, sweetie. Not for a long time.”

“Oh, okay.” Then she went back to eating.

When she was done, she licked my arm and barked like a dog.