The other night putting my daughter to bed, she gave me a hug without me asking and said, 'love you, daddy', and I had a moment of recognition for how fast she is growing. I also imagined, quite suddenly, that she will be there when I die, standing over me as I lay in a bed, and in that moment she might bid me farewell much as I bid her goodnight so long before, as if pushing out from the shore onto a lake shrouded in fog into which I would, in a moment, disappear.
In that gesture, my daughter was also a primitive sort of savior, guarding my passage into the following realm.
(It's not that I believe anything awaits, but if this is all we have, then it is more important yet.)
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