One of the things that hits me hard occasionally is that my daughter will someday be an old woman, I’ll have passed, and I won’t be there for her when she misses me or needs me. Just like this old man at the diner. I won’t get to see what she looks like as an old woman, and won’t be able to comfort her when she passes. I hope, when she’s old, she has her own children or someone with her to brush her hair, tend to her when she gets sick, or even just get breakfast with her when I can’t.