I HAD TO LEAVE—AND MY LITTLE GIRL BEGGED ME TO STAY

I knew this moment was coming. I had rehearsed it in my head a hundred times, telling myself I’d be strong, that I’d make it easier for her. But nothing prepares you for the sound of your own child sobbing in the back seat.

“Daddy, please don’t go,” Emma whimpered, her little hands clutching at the straps of her car seat like she could hold onto me that way. Her cheeks were red, eyes wet, her whole tiny body shaking with those deep, gasping cries.

I knelt beside her, forcing a smile even though my throat felt tight. “Baby, it’s just for a little while,” I said, brushing her curls out of her face. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

She shook her head furiously. “No, you won’t! You always say that, but you’re gone forever!”

That hit me like a punch to the chest. She wasn’t wrong. The last time I left, she was barely four. This time, she was five and a half. To her, I might as well have disappeared.

My wife, Clara, stood by the driver’s door, her lips pressed together, trying to stay strong. But I could see the pain in her eyes too. She wanted to tell Emma it would be okay, but we both knew we didn’t even know that for sure.

I kissed Emma’s forehead, trying to steady my voice. “You know what? How about this… Every night before bed, you look up at the moon. And I’ll do the same, no matter where I am. That way, we’re never really apart, okay?”

She sniffled, considering it, her little fingers gripping mine. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise,” I said, hooking my pinky around hers.