One night recently, she cried out for me. She doesn’t do that much anymore, but earlier that night, when I’d tucked her in and softly sung, “You are my sunshine,” in her ear, she’d cried. “What’s wrong lovey?” I’d asked. “I just started thinking about a sad thing,” she’d said. “Oh?” I ‘d asked. “What are you thinking about?” And with tears thick in her voice she’d said, “I’m thinking about when you will die.”…