I don't know how much time I'll have with my kids. I'm trying to embrace the joy in the face of despair.

• I'm a dad of two kids, ages 3 and 5.
• I often worry about their safety, what we're doing to our planet, and their future.

I walked into Trader Joe's with my 3-year-old daughter. All around me, despair hung heavy.

Masks were back because of an uptick in COVID-19 cases, after thinking the pandemic was over. Shoulders sagged. The flags outside the shopping center flew at half-mast, drooping under the crushing weight of the senseless tragedy in Uvalde, Texas, and a seemingly relentless gun crisis in the US. Sorrow hung in this normally cheerful store like fog.

My daughter, oblivious to tragedy, fear, or sadness, pointed to me and shouted, "Dance!"

I breathed in deeply. My son was at kindergarten. I kept thinking about whether he was safe. If he survived the day, what other violence might find him? My thoughts raced about how I could keep him healthy, what about the climate crisis or culture wars or —

"Dance," commanded my 3-year-old. She stood there, dressed head to toe in an adorable Bluey costume. She looked at me with eyes of hope and wonder and expectation. Eyes that don't deserve to be touched by sorrow or worry.

So I danced. There was music in the background, but it wasn't good enough. I shook my hips in the produce section and moved on my two left feet. I sang the theme song to Disney's "DuckTales," changing the lyrics.

"We are shopping at the store now,

Here in Trader Joe's.

Folks are staring at your dad,

But, hey, that's how it goes.

Let's check the list now,

And get some food, wow.

SHOPPING, WOO-OOO!

Grab an apple. No, that's a mango.

SHOPPING WITH YOU!"

The looks continued. Other parents smiled. Kids riding in shopping carts laughed and pointed, but the only look that mattered was on my daughter.

She beamed.

Her lips spread into a smile so wide it threatened to fall off her face. I lifted her into the air and spun her around. In the face of overwhelming despair, the one thing I can do as a parent is embrace joy.

I don't know how long I have with my kids

It's not easy, mind you. I take the time to acknowledge grief and rage. I let frustration work through my system. I call my senators, donate to causes, march, and try to bring change to this democracy, where ultimately politicians must answer to the will of the public. Yet on a personal, parenting level, I realize that I have no idea how long I have with my kids.

The CDC said guns were the leading cause of death for American children, surpassing car accidents as of 2020. This isn't just shootings. It's firearm accidents and suicides.

With that knowledge tucked in my heart, I know that every moment I have with my children is precious. At some point, I will die, and they will die. An awareness of our own mortality isn't morbid when it transforms us to embrace every moment and make it count.

I let my kids see when I'm suffering or upset.

But since the entire world's suffering, I also show them that throwing silliness and exuberance into daily life can remedy the most severe blues.

Despair is easy. It isn't wrong, and often it's necessary. Yet even feigning happiness has its benefits. Christine Carter suggests we "fake it until we make it," and that forcing a smile works to make you feel better.

As the world hangs under a cloud of sorrow, I choose to give my kids unabated joy. Every moment with them counts, so I'll continue to sing and smile, and lift them higher in happiness, with the hope that someday the world around them escapes from its gloom.