I still remember the day that I stood by my mother's bed on her last day. She had such a warm brightness in her eyes that I couldn't help but be mesmerized by them. She asked me not to leave her side at all that day and she asked my father the same.

Of course, when my father lay next to her, he couldn't stop crying. My mother laughed. I still remember her last words she said to my dad before we all fell asleep in her arms. "I'm the one dying and I still have to comfort your ass." She said that before she kissed me and my dad goodnight.

And she died.

I cried and cried all night and my father wept along side me. It was the only time I ever saw him cry. I was 8 then.

The amount of people who showed up was astounding. My mother had touched so many people's lives that when it came time to receive their condolences and their sympathies, I couldn't help but to pay attention to every single person who knew her.

They were from all different sorts of background. Old and young. Rich and poor. It didn't matter to my mom where someone came from. All that mattered was their heart and she had more than enough love to share for everyone.

The funeral was held during a bright and sunny day. I thanked god that it was as beautiful as it was because mom always loved going out on days like these. It was only fitting that her funeral was just as beautiful as she could had hopped.

It was hard for dad and I. Saying goodbye to mom was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. When they lowered her down, my father and I lost our composure and broke down again. The amount of love she had for us was gone and it felt as if dad and I were never going to be happy again.

But of course, that's not something my mother would have wanted. She would want us to get up and smile brightly because tomorrow was a new day. A brighter day. One that could bring about any amount of cheer that we could relish in and share with everyone.

It wasn't easy at first. Dad and I were a wreck after we got home. We didn't know how to continue on. It was as if mom had left a ghost in our home and we were struggling to fathom it. Like lighting a fire at the bottom of the ocean.

Dad was the first to finally speak of the problem. "Honey, I think it's time... We clean up the house a bit."

I looked around and noticed that we really were not taking care of the usual chores mom did. Dad always did his fair share of the chores, but with mom gone he had lost his sense of direction.

But we did our best and started to get the house cleaned.

Halfway into the first hour, we both realized we weren't playing any music. Mom usually played her favorite pop songs to listen to while we cleaned and it made it so much more fun.

Dad got out the bluetooth speaker and he put on their playlist. Almost immediately, I felt the energy to clean up and dance come alive in me. My dad must've felt it too because he was also getting in the dancing mood.

In no time at all we were making our place spotless again. We laughed and singed and danced until we finished folding all the clothes.

We both sat down on the sofa and admired our work. Although it was silly to think we should be proud of doing basic chores, we were more proud of the fact we could still laugh and we could still feel cheer. My mom would have been happy she left us knowing we could still feel like this.

It took time, but my dad and I got back into the rhythm of living again. He took me to school, and I learned to take over my mom's responsibilities around the house. Doing chores, cooking, and the like.

We had our normalcy back and we had our happiness again. At least, we were supposed to have it back.

When I was 11, I was diagnosed with pneumonia. It came suddenly and it scared my dad to death. He took me to see a doctor and after I was admitted into intensive care, he began to lose himself again.

Seeing him so broken and so overwhelmed with sorrow made me feel incredibly powerless.

On the night that my coughing was at its worse, I held my dad's hand. I looked up at him and smiled, just like mom did. And I told him the same words she told him. "I'm the one dying and I still have to comfort your ass."

We both laughed and cried that night, knowing that I was going to be okay. We were going to be okay.

After a few weeks of recovery, I was scheduled to return home. My dad and I couldn't have been happier. We saw this as an opportunity to enjoy our time even more and to cherish what we have.

Over the course of the next five years, my father and I spent as much time as we could with each other. We went on trips and celebrated every single birthday and holiday with as much cheer as we could muster.

It was something I always looked forward to and something that I'll always be grateful to him for.

Of course, things don't always seem to stay that way.

Our routine was very mundane, but it brought joy to us. I came home from school and started getting dinner ready.

My dad was a hard worker and he would usually come home exhausted. When he did, he usually took a shower and then we ate dinner watching TV or or something else. Usually when we were done, he'd load up his video games and I'd watch him play.

He played different kind of games, but the one he played most often was a game called "Destiny".

I found the concept very intriguing but if I were to be honest, first person shooters were not something I was too keen on. But my dad enjoyed playing it so I usually let him be and just did my homework or studied on my own.

He expressed his desires for me to play along side him and I told him that I would, but we only had one console. Even if I didn't find first person shooters fun, playing along side my dad would have been incredibly fun, so we decided that I would get my own PlayStation so we could play.

We were never a wealthy family, but my dad made enough that we could live comfortably. Although the price of a new console was high, it was a luxury we could afford.

And so on my 16th birthday, we went to the store and he bought me my own console and a copy of the game.

He got the console ready and and it was ready to play. I made my account for the PlayStation and popped the disc in. That's when he got a call from the office. It was an emergency he needed to take care of.

I told him I'd wait for him while he went to go take care of the job. I went into my room and studied, browsed the internet and talked with some friends. Before I knew it, night had fallen.

I wasn't worried because my dad usually does have these emergencies at work and they take some time to finish. I decided to make us dinner so we could have something to eat while we played.

I made him his favorite. Barbacoa tacos and a bottle of hot sake ready to go. I put them in the microwave so they wouldn't get cold and continued on what I was doing.

It must have been only a few minutes after I had finished making dinner that I got a call from the local police, asking me if I knew a "Lucio Valiente."

Needless to say, after hearing his name, I knew it wasn't good. After a rushed drive to the hospital from an UBER, I got out and quickly made my way to the front desk to ask for my dad's status.

I don't remember much after the nurse told me my dad was in critical condition. I just remember hearing a white noise that drowned out everything around me.

When a disaster ever hit my dad and I, we always made an effort to be there for each other. Without him here to guide me through this, I genuinely felt lost. I couldn't distinguish right from left or up from down.

I sat in the waiting room, just wondering what was happening. Whenever someone came to check up on me, I just replied in a monotone voice without even knowing what I just said. I was on auto-pilot.

It wasn't until they told me my dad was out of surgery and could receive visitors that I finally came out of my white noise and paid attention.

They slowly walked me to his room and gave us our privacy.

The second I stepped into that room, my world was shattered. Seeing my dad in such a deplorable state almost made me fall to my knees in morose agony.

My dad was wrapped from head to toe. Only and eye and his mouth were clearly visible. The rest of him looked completely in shambles. I slowly walked over to his side, afraid that if I approached too fast he might get worse.

I stood by him, waiting for any sign that he was there. Any sign that he seemed he got out through the worst of it.

I stood there for a long time before I said anything. "Dad?"

His one eye opened up. His cut up mouth gave me a smile and he replied. "Hey kiddo."

I held his hand and started to cry. I sobbed and wept and cried like a little kid. I hadn't cried this hard since my mom died.

My dad looked at me and chuckled. "I'm the one dying and I still have to comfort your ass."

My heart ached as soon as he said that. This must have been how mom and dad felt when we both uttered the same words.

I spent as much time as I could with him before the nurse told me that I had to go due to my dad's condition. Slowly, I got up and kissed my dad goodnight.

The ride home felt empty. It didn't feel like anything. I was just lost in my own head. I kept wondering to myself, what could have been changed? What if I got up and gave him a tighter hug? Just a few seconds longer? What if he didn't get the call? What if he got stuck in traffic, or if there wasn't any traffic at all?

I kept pouring the questions over until I finally got to my house.

I thanked the UBER driver in a very monotone voice. I unlocked my front door and trudged inside.

I didn't eat any of the food I made. I didn't get changed and I just slumped onto the couch, the TV still on.

"Destiny" was still loaded. I pressed the "X" button on the controller and it began to load.

It took a second, but the black screen was replaced with a logo. "BUNGiE."

The hum of trumpets erupted from the screen in a familiar tone when my dad played.

It always relaxed me knowing that my dad was enjoying his hobby when I heard those trumpets.

As the trumpets played, I saw the screen change to the all too familiar start screen. "Destiny" with the logo just below. "PRESS X TO PLAY" just at the bottom of the screen.

I pressed it and waited for the loading screen to take me to the character customization screen.

For some reason, it took a while. Or at least, that's what it felt like. I was nodding off and before I knew it, blissful oblivion found me. I didn't remember ever getting back to that screen, but something inside of me felt warm. I felt... changed. I felt... Light.

When I began to wake up, my vision was blurred. I felt as if I was blind. I slowly stood up and tried to grasp any semblance of my surroundings.

Before I could see anything, a voice called out to me. And when I heard the voice, I knew I wasn't home anymore.

"Guardian...? Guardian...? Eyes up, Guardian!"

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at making a full fledge fanfic story. Please let me know what you think and a follow and review would be greatly appreciated!