For the past week, I’ve been up in Maryland doing what I could to help out my sister. Without getting into the details, her husband suffered a series of medical mishaps that ended with him in the ICU with serious brain damage. My siblings and I flew to help out however we could.

I explained all this to my kids by telling them that their uncle Ed was very sick, and I was going to help out. They understood this, and I thought all was well. I called home from MD each night to say goodnight to all of them.

The second night, N (the three year old) interrupted me.

“Daddy,” he said quietly. “Thanks for helping uncle Ed.”

I was (amazingly enough) speechless. He sounded so sad when he said it that I didn’ t know how to react. I told him I was happy to do it, and he said the saddest goodnight I’d ever heard.

I didn’t understand what was going on until I got back.

When I arrived home late on Wednesday, J told me that the little guy had said to her “I hope that Daddy doesn’t catch what Uncle Ed has.” She had reassured him, of course, but he remained skeptical.

I think it’s time for me to stay home for a little while.

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