He was rushed to the hospital and we saw a glimmer of hope. Sara and I followed; I was 20. I literally brought my childhood stuffed animal, Sad Sam, with me to the emergency room. The Chaplin met us in the waiting room and asked if we were “next of kin.” I didn’t know what that meant. Sara did. We weren’t next of kin. Or we weren’t yet. Emerson wasn’t even a flutter yet. But Ed was gone.