Veronica and I were playing last night with her toys, and the subject of her upcoming visit to her grandparents came up in conversation. She confirmed that Janus the cat wasn't going.

Then she said, "Pita died."

"Yes," I said, "Pita died. I used to take her to your grandma and grandpa's house, though. She was allowed to go."

Veronica got excited. "Pita at Grandma and Grandpa house!" she said.

"No, honey, she's not. She died."

Veronica looked a little confused. "Pita in Grandma and Grandpa bedroom," she stated firmly.

"No, sweetie, she died. Do you know what 'die' means, Veronica?"

She looked down at her toys and fell silent.

"It means she's gone and she can't come back, she's never coming back," I explained.

Veronica sat there silently for a few moments, and then asked, "Mommy? I die too?"

I almost started crying immediately at the thought. I wanted to say no, you live forever. You HAVE TO. But I didn't want to lie to her.

"Yes, Veronica," I said. "You die too. But not for a very very VERY long time, OK?"

"I die and see Pita," she said.

"Yes but not for a very, very, very, VERY long time, sweetie." And I had to change the subject.

No one ever told me that a conversation with your child would feel like a punch to the stomach, would make you want to just cry with the innocence and overwhelming scope of what you're discussing. She feels better now, but I just need a hug in the worst possible way after this exchange.