Am I Dead Already?

Tonight I laid down on my daughter's bed after she'd been tucked in. She grabbed my right hand and starting tracing the lines on my palm with her fingers. We didn't say anything for a few minutes while she looked at my hand. Then she broke the silence:
"Daddy, I really missed you today"
"I missed you too honey. I miss you every day"

Before my current contract I was working from home two days a week and getting home before 6pm most nights, so I saw my kids a lot. Now I'm lucky to get home before 7pm, and I jump on my computer at night and work more. And a thought occurred to me, lying there next to my daughter: "What if I've died already? What if I've died on the road one day and I didn't even know it and I'm merely a spirit lying here and she doesn't even know I'm here, doesn't even know me?" I spun in a moment of anxiety and terror gripped by this foolish idea that I didn't exist any more. I started to cry.

"Honey. I miss you all day every day that I'm not with you. You're the most wonderful little girl I could have ever hoped for, and you and your brother are the best reason for me to get out of bed in the morning. I love you no matter what."

I'm not dead yet, but I am dying a little each day; a lot, each day I'm away from those I hold most dear.

McKenna let go of my hand scooted closer and hugged me. "Daddy, can I please read a story to myself?"
"Of course you can sweetheart."
"I love you Daddy."
"I love you too honey."

I prayed with McKenna, kissed her forehead, and left her to her reading.

There was more work to be done.