My sons almost died yesterday.

At midnight control was lost. As I stared into the darkness, my over-active imagination kicked in. I buried my sons over and over, just as I had my own father two months before. All the details were gone over, down to the clothing they were buried in. Jake wore his precious soccer shoes. Josh had his science books. Cameron couldn’t sleep for eternity without his stuffed Froggy.

Sleep was impossible. I went downstairs and watched my sons sleeping. I talked to each one, stroking his head and telling him how much he meant to me. Jake, with his delightfully crooked smile and flashing black eyes. Mister Work Ethic, struggling through fifth grade with tutors and late night homework. I remembered the pride in his face when he brought home his final report card: four A’s and four B’s.

Josh, the scientist who aced second grade and was reading at the fifth grade level. I remembered having to drag him to ski team practice two years ago. This past season, Josh and I raced head-to-head in a timed race in front of the entire team and spectators. He beat me by a gate and a half.

Cameron. Irrepressible Cameron, the happiest person I have ever known. Three times state snowboard champion, nationally ranked. The kid who calls me at the office every afternoon during the summer to ask if I could pleeease take him golfing.

I talked to them all. I wondered if my father had come into my room after some near-death experience. After the time I fell out of our moving car. Or the time we were night fishing when I fell off the dock and he had to dive in to save me. Or the time I climbed out of a pickup truck, caught my sleeve in the tailgate and was dragged blocks before my shirt ripped.

I cried. I cried a lot. About what could have been, what I almost lost.

I’m a strict father, determined to raise responsible, capable boys to adulthood. Sometimes strictness runs into over-seriousness.

In the words of the famous American philosopher, James Taylor, Shower with love the ones that you love. Show them the way that you care.