When my daughter was a little girl I was driving her somewhere in our old car. The day was rainy, she sat in the back seat. The windows were fogging up, the ventilation in the car wasn’t working so well. As I wiped the window, stopped at an intersection on a small road in a small village, she asked me, “dad, are you going to die someday?” and although I had of course thought about dying before, I had never before thought about my dying for her and what that meant, and I had to cry, realizing how much I love her and realizing, yes, this is it, right here, right now, this is all. I got my voice under control and admitted, “yes, I will someday.” “Will I ever see you again?” she asked, with her small voice. “I don’t know,” I said, “I hope so. But I promise, I will always be with you, I will always be part of you.” Because one way or another I know that to be true.