I was at the kitchen table, editing on deadline. I had put Katie to bed 30 minutes earlier.
She cried out.
I saved the story I was working on and hustled to her room.
She wanted a hug. Then the words came tumbling out: "I want to see Daddy. I want him here. Why did he have to die when he was 40? He didn't get to see me when I was 6."
I snuggled her and hugged her and told her that I, too, wanted to see Daddy, that I want him here. That I wish he could tuck her in and read to her and hug her when she is 6. And that I was so very sorry he couldn't.
Then she gave me a kiss and I gave her another big hug and walked back to the kitchen to work.