“Are you going to die, Mama?” Those words cut through me like a knife as my entire body went motionless. I looked at that sweet face that was looking back at me, not realizing the impact her question had on me. My mind blanked for a second, not knowing how to answer back, and then all the thoughts came rushing in like waves hitting against a cliff. How do I answer without scaring her? How do I answer while still being truthful? How do I protect her innocence even though she already knows more about death than any child her age should?

And before I could even formulate an answer, I heard, “Mom, if you die like daddy, who will take care of us?” Then Wyatt jumps in, “Don’t die, mama, we need you. You’re our family. Don’t die like daddy.” Before I even processed what was happening, I felt my arms wrap around them as the tears came down my face. “Don’t cry, mama. Are you okay?” Wyatt asks. And the only words I could seem to find to say to them were, “I will always be here for you, no matter what. You will always have me.” I didn’t know if that was the right answer or if there was something better I could have said, but those were the words that I wanted them to hear. Those were the words that I wanted to say. And maybe those were the words that I also needed to hear.

That less than 5-minute interaction brought back all the anxiety that was looming under the surface. The anxiety from being the only parent left. The anxiety of not wanting them to feel any of the hurt from having a dead father. But that was our reality. And I’m slowly learning that those worries I have for them are also the worries that they are starting to wonder about. So how do I approach these types of questions? I know there are no right or wrong answers, but the fact that these are even the questions 5-year-olds are thinking about breaks my heart into a million more pieces.