Earlier this evening, when Beatrix arrived home from a play date, she bounded enthusiastically through the door as usual and wrapped her arms around me. My wife, having heard the news, told Beatrix “You should give Daddy an extra big hug.”

“Why do you need an extra big hug Daddy? What happened?”

“I lost a good friend, honey. He died.”

“Why he died?”

“Sometimes people get sick. Too sick to keep living. So sometimes they die.”

She leaned back in my arms. Took a good look at my face. Caressed it on either side with both hands. Then threw her arms around me and squeezed me long and tight. Into my ear she whispered, “I’ll be your friend. I won’t died.”

She is insanely great.