I gently held my tiny daughter in my comforting arms as she sobbed and clutched my fuzzy robe with all of her might. The dim bedside lamp lit just enough shadows to encourage more sleep. It must have been another nightmare.

“I don’t want you to die, Mommy,” she shrieked.

I stroked her long, blonde hair as I quickly brainstormed how to comfort her. “Oh, darling. You don’t have to worry about that for a long, long time. I’m healthy. And look at me. Am I old?”

She paused her screaming and fell silent a moment as she thought about it. “No.”

“Well, I have to get old first. And you have to get old, too. That’s a long time from now.”

“I don’t want to get old!” She commenced her meltdown once more.

I had said the wrong thing. I could wait it out, but the crying would accelerate if I ignored the issues. I hoped her brother would sleep through this. It had already been an intense day. 

I took a deep breath and tried again. “You have nothing to worry about. You are only 4 years old. You won’t be old until you are in your 80’s or maybe more. That’s at least 76 more years. That’s a really, really long time.”

“But I don’t want you to be old, either! I don’t want you to die. I don’t want to be alone!”

“Don’t worry. You won’t ever be alone. You will have your own family, and maybe you could possibly have your own kids and grandkids, and job. You will be very busy.”

She continued sobbing, “I don’t want to be busy and forget about you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think you are ever going to forget about me. I’m your mom! We love each other.”

“I don’t want you to get too old. I want you to always take care of me.” She hiccupped between sobs. I handed her a cup of water, and she took a sip. Her breathing calmed.

“Aww, baby. Don’t worry. No matter how big you get, I will always be your mother, and I will always take care of you.”

“Ok. I love you, mom.” She yawned, eyelids drooping. 

“I hold you in my heart.”

And then as I cradled my baby daughter and cuddled her back to secure sleep, I hoped once again that Matthew’s cancer would disappear, so I wouldn’t have to see her innocent universe shatter under some of the lies I had just told. 

Jennifer Bell is a Professor of ESL at Delaware County Community College in Pennsylvania. She delights in creating stories and singer-songwriting.