The World Beneath

Anna Guo
Faculty Instructor: Anna Sicari

They say another world doesn’t exist; there is no Utopia or Dystopia, just Earth. There is no scientific evidence of another world congested with unknown beings. But as human beings on Earth, love is an inevitable feeling we all face. People are tied by each other’s love and live for the feeling of love. That is why there is pain and wounds that cease to end when love fades away. Love exits everyday and in everyway; one person’s death affects all those affiliated with that person. But, what really is true love? It is difficult to determine one’s true feelings, but if one still thinks of his or her loved ones at the time of death and continuously cares for them, then that is one true love. What if human beings got dragged into another world to understand the true love of another? What if true love was to be only felt again in the world beneath?

My name is Ganderson McGuirre, eighteen years of age, one and only son of Mary and Henry McGuirre, and brother of Leo the pit bull who has never failed to starve himself. I just graduated with honor from Flounder High School and just got accepted to Manta Ray University for a Masters in Captaincy. I have yet to fail the expectations my parents have for me, and I hope to follow my father’s footsteps in becoming an inspiring captain. “Ganderson! What are you doing? We are running late. Let’s go!” That was my mother. She’s a tiny but strong woman whose smile shines above all the stars in the sky. She is the most beautiful woman I know, with a heart so generous she would give the last two dollars she possessed to help another in need. I don’t know anyone who sacrificed as much as she did for the happiness of her family. My mother was from a very wealthy family and was supposed to be the CEO of her family’s designer clothing company. She did nothing wrong in life except fall in love with my tall, courageous father who stole her heart at first sight on the deck of a cruise.

When Mom found out that she was pregnant with me, Dad was at the climax of his career; he was being promoted to Captain of Sea. But, at that time, Mom was supposed to inherit the company; she decided to give up on that and care for me with her utmost love instead. She didn’t want anyone else but herself to raise me up; she believed that only she would be able to give me the warmth and love a family should have. As a result, my courageous mother gave up on her company, rebelled against my grandparents for the first time, and moved with my Dad to New York City, where his cruise, the Miracle Sea departed. “Ganderson!” Uh oh. The sound of Mom’s heels was getting louder and louder as she walked closer to me. Her light green eyes sparkled against her short brunette hair as she approached me.

“Ganderson, don’t you remember what day it is today? And you’re still not dressed yet?” I gave it some thought. Oh no, I forgot it was June 25th. It was the day of my cousin’s wedding. “Sorry Mom, I’ll be ready in five minutes.” Usually, we didn’t have to leave this early because Dad would be the driver, but today we had to walk a few streets down to try to catch a cab because Dad had to set sail to Hawaii. I heard loud, big feet with leather shoes make its way down the staircase. “Kiddo, what are you doing, keeping your mother waiting like that?” “Sorry, Dad, I’m always forgetful; you know that!” My father’s deep voice puts emphasis and power into his words. I looked up to him and pictured myself in that navy suit, decorated with six parallel gold buttons and gold embellishments. It must feel very honorable to be able to wear such a well-made suit. My father’s blue eyes, brown hair, and tall nose matched him so perfectly and made him the ideal man that any son would look up to. He stood up nice and straight, and put on his best smile where his dimples protruded his beauty even more. His beard was smooth and clean, and I thought to myself, no wonder Mom fell for him. I’ve always wondered where Dad’s genes showed up on my not so tall self and my stubby nose. Dad then proceeded to grab his white captaincy hat decorated with shades of black and gold embellishment from the rack. It plopped perfectly right onto his head as he then progressed to swing his hand with his palm faced down toward his forehead and said, “All aboard!” He bent down to give Mom a big kiss on her cheeks and gave me a firm, manly pat on the back. “Ganderson, you’re a big boy now; take care of mom while I’m gone. I’ll be back in two weeks.” “Don’t worry, I will. Nothing’s going to happen; have fun Dad!” But I was wrong.

Mom and I left the house ten minutes later and arrived at the Grand Hyatt Hotel in Times Square at 7:30 P.M. During the wedding dinner, the chandelier shimmered against the rusty, yellow painted ceiling. The restaurant was a zoo, with tamed animals in suits of black and white running around, serving each guest. The tables were set in a lavender theme, with a bouquet of flamingo pink roses set in the middle of each table, periwinkle marbles guarding the flowers, and a polka dotted pink box with a present inside it. As the boredom kicked in, I unwrapped the ribbon on the box and found a heart keychain engraved with the words Jared and Lily forever, 6.29.2005. Ewww, what’s with all these disgusting pink and purple colors striking at my eyes? Ha, my cousin definitely was in charge of the décor for this wedding. The restaurant was full of gossip and wine glasses clinking. “Wow, Lily is looking amazing tonight,” said a lady of about fifty. “I still can’t believe that the wealthy and charming Jared chose such a mediocre woman like Lily,” whispered another lady of about twenty-seven, whose envious eyes burned in flames. I was tired of eavesdropping useless gossip among the crowd of immature women and decided to go watch the television attached to the wall, which had paint on the verge of peeling off. At least there was something that might be of slight amusement here besides gossiping ladies and pink décor.

An educational program was on, teaching kids about different mammals. But it was so noisy I barely heard a word even though I only sat a few tables away. The program was suddenly interrupted by big red words blinking on the screen. The words were followed by a loud beeping noise. “What was that sound?” “Woah, my ears!” “Look! Over there!” said a woman in a yellow dress who pointed her index finger toward the screen. At that moment, the whole restaurant was silent. Everyone turned to the alarming sound of breaking news, and all eyes were on the sixty-four inch HD television now. It read “BREAKING NEWS. An unexpected tsunami has hit the West Coast and is entering Hawaii. Waves have reached heights of 70 feet and are expected to go higher.” A bunch of worried countenances, gasps, and widely opened mouths surrounded the atmosphere, including my own. I immediately turned around to find Mom. I finally gained sight of her when I saw her long blue dress covering the white tiles of the floor. All I saw Mom doing was praying on the floor, deprived of energy from the news. Please, God, please tell me Harry got back safely. I can’t lose him. No, I must go find him. I squealed and got her attention, “Mom! No, this isn’t real, right? Dad probably arrived already… He had to.” But I knew those were just my unrealistic words to comfort myself. Tears rolled in her eyes like they were trapped in a jail cell, waiting to be released. Her face turned pale, cold and hard like stone.

I promised to find Dad with her, and minutes later, we excused ourselves from the wedding and rushed home. We called Dad, but it automatically went to his voicemail. Mom started shaking, and words came out as stutters. “Whu..uhh..uh..why isss..n’t he pic..ick..ing up?” I tried to comfort her, but I needed comforting myself at such shocking news, while my hands just wouldn’t stop shaking, and foot wouldn’t stop tapping. Although the safety of Miracle Sea was not yet confirmed, I proceeded to give my Mom a cup of hot tea to try calming her down. She held it tightly, with her legs shaking and tears dripping a rainfall. Suddenly, the glass cup slipped out of her hands and shattered like an explosion against the hard tiled floor. At that moment, her heart shattered with it when she received a call from the cruise company, which she picked up immediately.

“Hello? Hi, This is Miracle Sea calling for Mrs. McGuirre? Yes, please speak. I’m sorry to tell you such depressing news, but we just received a radar that the Miracle Sea has sunk and Captain Henry McGuirre is missing along with thousands of others.” After those words, the phone slipped out of her hands, and her tears added on to the puddle of spilled water, while I, who never thought such a thing could happen to a nice man like my father, stood in shock. The news just hit me like a needle through my heart, and I just sat still, stiff like a knight, while taking deep long breaths to try to comprehend what just happened. The ship sank, but my father can swim. He is definitely alive. He’s a man who keeps his promise; he will come back like he said he would. After moments of resentment, I finally faced the truth, and the tears that I have been trying to hold in fell from my eyes, down the bridge of my nose, and onto my cold lips. I licked it and swallowed the saltiness of such news.

Day sixty. Two months passed and things just got more and more terrible each day. Dad was reported mysteriously missing since he was never found; Mom grew haggard and weary, and I fell into a state of depression. My aspiration, my role model, and my father just left like that, but with that, my goals and dreams went through the door as well. The sun never shone on our house anymore. It became the dreariest and darkest on the street that even neighbors were afraid to pass by it because it gave them the shivers. I would have never been able to get out of depression if it wasn’t for my mother, who at one point, got back on her feet. She knew she was the only one who could save me from this melancholy. She brought me to many famous psychiatrists and tried to fill my memory with only blissful moments. She cooked me my favorite foods, brought me new video games, and tried to tell me jokes everyday. However, it was through moments like these that I was able to finally understand what true motherly love was. Behind the weary eyes deprived of tears, the smile that so forcibly glistened, and the weakness in my mother’s voice, I knew that my mom was holding back all those dismal feelings so that I could live again. It hurt me even more to know that and still not be able to get myself out of my stupid, sad feelings.

It was ninety days after my father’s death. The doorbell rang, and I went to open it. But there was no one outside. I looked out to the left and then the right, but no one was in sight. Then, I saw a package on the staircase. It had a note attached to it that read: To the McGuirre Family: Live well and blissful with this present of love. There was no signature. Since it was addressed to my family, I opened the package impetuously and couldn’t believe my eyes. My eyes widened, and my nose filled with the aroma of new bills, as I have never seen such a large stack of money. “MOM. MOM!! COME!” Mom stared in disbelief, and her superstitious self told her that it was a present from her husband, who has been watching over them all this time. So, we decided to accept this present and live well with it just like what the note said, hoping to fulfill my father’s wishes. Time changed everything and in half a year, and we were living well again. As a result of this package that brought us back to life, we have established a tradition. Every year, we commemorate the death of Henry McGuirre, my one and only father and role model, by going on a cruise, because we believe that his soul is still floating there.

Exactly one year, three hundred sixty-five days, passed. It was June 28th, 2006, the first year that I would go on a cruise to commemorate the death of my spectacular father, the great captain of sea. We arrived in Hawaii, and I checked my watch to find out that it was already 5:00 P.M. The cruise made its stop so that we could go scuba diving in the crystalline, light blue Hawaiian pool of waters. The heat was still overwhelmingly strong, and I just needed some Hawaiin water to cool down. The translucent, glimmering seawater was calling me and luring me in. “Mom, I’m going to go for a quick swim.” She angrily replied, “NO! Go get an iced drink instead.” But I pleaded and she finally agreed after my desperate tone and encouraging words. “Listen son, be careful and do not go too far out. I repeat, DO NOT swim too far out.”

Since the day of Dad’s tragedy, she never let me near any pool of water, frightened that she might lose another against the forces of the water. I was so ecstatic to be able to swim again that I ran to the edge of the cruise, but just as I was about to dive in, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to only see three boys, who looked around my age, surrounding me. They introduced themselves. “Hi, whatcha up to kid? Wanna play with us?” Ryan was tall and slim and had the body of a swimmer. “Yeah, you think you can swim?” Fred was short and a bit chubby. “Care to race us, or are you too scared?” Marcos was tall and muscular with a body of a weight trainer. They did not just challenge me to a swimming competition. They don’t know what I got. I did not want to be afraid; I wanted to show them that my father has taught me to become a courageous man and that I would not fail him. Thus, I agreed impetuously, forgetting my mother’s words of going too far out. I had confidence in myself since I was a great swimmer, taught by my outstanding father. “On your mark…get set… go!” On that count, the four of us dived in. I swam swiftly and easily, already beating chubby Fred and muscular Marcos. Ryan and I were now racing for first place. I can easily beat Ryan; I’ll show him what I’m made of.

With a surge of adrenaline, I also surpassed Ryan by a foot, but suddenly I felt a force tugging under me. Oh no, what’s happening? Foot cramps? Tangled seaweed? Seeing that Ryan was catching up, I tried to overcome the force. But the more I resisted, the stronger the force was. First, it slowed me down, but then it pulled harder and harder to the point where my mouth was in the water, then my nose, then my blue eyes, and finally, the last strand of brunette hair drowned in as well. I was now completely submerged into the depths of the water, unseen and gone from view. Under the unfathomable depths of the sea, I trembled with fear and anxiously breathed through my nose. I knew it would only be a matter of seconds before all my breath would be used up. At that moment, something caught my eye. I saw layers of oval rings forming. Is this real? Please tell me I’m dreaming. Suddenly, the current was so fast, it seemed like the rings were running on an engine. The current sped up all the waters around it, and the force was stronger than ever. I felt remorseful now; I should have listened to my mother before it was too late. Appearing right before my eyes was a ferocious whirlpool, and at that moment, I’ve realized that I have reached the final destination of my life. This monster took me closer and closer each second as I tried to resist. But it was too late now; it has already dragged me in. It was too late for regrets. Were these the consequences of taking in Mom’s truthful love so lightly?

Three hours later, I finally felt conscious enough to open one eye and then slowly squint to open the other to only see blurriness. Where am I? The world seemed upside down and my head hurt as if someone had thrown a stone at me. I thought I saw mountains with a fire top, but still unconscious, I couldn’t distinguish what it was. I tried getting up, but only to fall back down. Suddenly, a drop of rain hit my eyes, and I miraculously felt revitalized just as the yellow grass and shriveled flowers around me did. The grass suddenly became greener as ever, and the flowers danced their way back up. Then, a shower of rain fell down.

I heard distant voices screaming, “Rain! It’s rain! God must have sent us a savior! Where is he?” A stampede of feet was approaching. I panicked. Who were they? Are they going to attack me? Am I dead? But unknowingly, I was actually the key that helped bail the town out of impoverishment. As my vision began to clear up, I saw smiling countenances and large eyes of curiosity surrounding me. Startled at the sight of such weird looking people, dressed in ragged clothing and excessive accessories, I bounced up. Who are they and what do they want from me? Calm down, Ganderson, calm down. They don’t seem like callous people. I tried to recall all the events that just happened because the last time I checked, I was catching my last breath in a body of water. Thinking really hardly, I started to regain flashbacks of my mother, a swimming competition, and a whirlpool. Everything gradually zapped through my mind like a flash of lightning. “AHHH!! MOM, where are you? Where am I? MOM?”

An old grandfather, who had hair as white as a swan and deep wrinkles inscribed into his forehead, tapped his wooden cane with colorful tribal drawings on it, and I turned my attention toward him. In a scratchy, low voice, he said, “Young man, you are Setenville’s savior. Your presence is the only way we can survive. Our town was suffering from drought and hunger, but now thanks to you, it is revitalized. We should name you our Savior.” The crowd of people then bowed down to him. I couldn’t be more confused at that point. “Where am I? How did you know I arrived?” The grandfather, who I learned was the Chief of this town, then explained to me that I was at a town beneath the sea called Setenville. Everything made sense now…I fell into a world beneath.

A long, long time ago, the people of Setenville were very wealthy and had all the resources they needed. But, this luxury only existed because they had kept the tradition of sacrificing one valuable item to God each year to thank him for all that he gave them. However, one year the town became so prosperous and the people became so avaricious, they forgot to sacrifice something. They were severely punished with poverty and suffered from droughts, diseases, and famines thereafter. After realizing what unbelievable mistake they had made, the whole town prayed in the wooden family church for exactly a month before God granted them forgiveness. Each year the town would have no rain until June 28th when God sent a ‘Savior’ to them. The people of Setenville thought of this as a reminder from God that it was time to sacrifice something and would hold a sacrifice celebration the very next day. Because of the many lives that were once lost from poverty, the people of Setenville treasured life as the most valuable present. Thus, they thought that was the most appropriate item to sacrifice to God, and the tradition passed on for generations to sacrifice a human being. “The very next day?” I exclaimed. “Yes, young man; you can’t test God’s patience.” Then, Chief of Setenville, also known as the grandfather, or Lebanon Cortate, ordered the people to make the preparations so that the celebration can start at two on the dot tomorrow afternoon.

That night, the town of Setenville was so lively. Every shack glowed with bright, yellow light from the inside. If someone stood at the peak of the mountains and looked down at this small town, they would think that a bunch of fireflies has conquered the land. I was anxious about the sacrifice ceremony and couldn’t sleep. I rolled around in the nourished green grass. But at one point, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I needed answers. I decided to make my way to Lebanon to cure my curiosities.

“What brings you here at this time, Savior? Shouldn’t you be resting while you can?” said Lebanon as he entered. I saw that Lebanon was putting little pieces of paper inside a box that was decorated with the same tribal drawings that was scratched on his cane. “I want to know more about the celebration that will take place tomorrow. I can’t sleep thinking that one person, who might be me, will be sacrificed tomorrow.” Lebanon chuckled and said, “Young people these days. They can’t wait at all.” Seeing that I was impatiently waiting, he proceeded to answer my question. “Every year the person being sacrificed is determined by their luck and the two ‘lucky’ people would compete in a swimming competition that will start at Geudasille port and end at the midpoint of the Jackson River, where there was a small sailboat. The winner gets on the sailboat and goes back to shore, while the loser is left as a sacrifice. Some people train their whole life for this competition because they never know when they’ll get picked. Some people hope that they actually get chosen, usually the poorer ones of the town. Why? That’s because both participants get to write down a wish before the race and the one left to go join God will automatically get his wish fulfilled. Past participants usually wished for wealth for their family, and the town would help make that wish come true. The competitions sometimes would last for days; the longest one lasted three days.”

Seeing my curiosity build up, he asked, “Do you want to see the names of the people who were sacrificed?” “Sure.” “Follow me,” said Lebanon. Both of us walked out into the dark night that painted small silver stars. Lebanon escorted me to a tree unlike the others. This one had a lamp hung on one of the branches that made the tree glow beautifully amongst the others, which camouflaged with the dark sky.

“This is the tree of Swimentery,” explained Lebanon. I saw the names of the people who lost in the swimming competitions engraved on a stone that was attached to the trunk of the tree, but one particularly caught my eye; it said Henry McGuirre- 2005. Clearing my mind, I rubbed my eyes thinking that I saw something wrong, but the same name stood there, jumping out at me. I couldn’t believe it. It can’t be my father, can it? Did he fall into the world beneath after the Miracle Sea sunk? Seeing my eyes widening by the second and just glued to that name, Lebanon asked me if I wanted to know anything about these people.

“Lebanon, can you please tell me the story behind the sacrificed Henry McGuire?” Lebanon answered, “Ah, him, of course, that courteous, unfortunate captain.” He let out a sigh. “He was one good man. He thought about his son and wife Mary every second, even before the moment he died. His wish was to give his family money so that they can live blissfully and comfortably, like the usual participants. I remembered we drank wine together the night before the celebration, and he’d tell me all about his brave child and his beautiful wife. He wanted his wife to get the kitchen makeover she always wanted and his son to be able to afford the prestigious college he got accepted into and marry a beautiful wife just like his. Boy was he a genuine man. He knew his captaincy money couldn’t get the family anywhere far. Thus, this great swimmer sacrificed his life on purpose, and we sent his family a good sum of money. I still remember what he wrote as his wish. He wrote: I wish that my family would live prosperously after my death and please attach this note to the sum of money- To the McGuirre Family: Live well and blissful with this present of love. He was a man who made an unforgettable impact on me. I’ve never seen such a caring and generous man before.”

“On what day was he sacrificed?” I asked, in a shaky, anxious voice. “His competition was so fast that we haven’t seen his face after June 30th of 2005, and we confirmed his death when his opponent came back to shore by boat that night.” I was astonished upon hearing that; those were the exact words of the note that I received with the package and the death date was accurate. My father was really the one who delivered the package of money. A tear slipped out of my eye and dripped into the deep green grass. Laying down staring at the black sheet above me, I thought of my great captain, my father. He was always sailing away; I was hardly able to spend time with him, playing baseball like fathers and sons would do and when we did, he was strict about it. I was trained to become a man who can take care of my mother and do exceptional in my studies. I have never seen this side of father before, and I have never thought that he had so much love in him. I can’t believe Dad did this so that Mom and I would have our wishes granted. I miss Dad. A lot.

June 30th, 2006 awoke with the aroma of fried chicken, confetti that painted the gloomy sky, and children running around like animals, but I felt a sense of anxiety and misery surround everyone, despite their cheerful faces. Observing the countenance of others, I too forced a smile on my face. The town would celebrate until two o’ clock, the time of the sacrifice ceremony. Everyone in the town was like family, thus they would always make this event as joyous as possible because they knew in a few hours, someone they loved will be gone forever to protect the future of Setenville. As the golden clock that hung on Lebanon’s neck approached the number two, the clouds converged and only blots of the blue sky remained. The laughter and energy gradually died out, and the box that I saw in Lebanon’s shack last night was resting on a table.

Slowly, people gathered around the box with their hands clasped in front of them, eyes closed, doing a prayer. To be fair, the names were picked out from the box by a unique bird of blue, purple, red, and yellow. It was the size of a person’s palm and came at the sound of Lebanon’s whistle. Then, Lebanon took out two pieces of blank papers and wrote his name on both of them. He carefully printed “Lebanon Cortate”onto the blank pieces of papers. He then folded them, put them in the decorated box, and shook it. “Why is your name put in there twice?” He replied, “Because as Chief of Setenville, it is my duty to protect the people and since I represent the town, my sacrifice would be twice as great.” With that, he put the beautiful bird inside the box. It came out a minute later holding a piece of paper in its beak. The moment was so tense. Hands were consolidated tightly, eyes were closed, and prayers were still being said. Lebanon opened the crumbled piece of paper and took a deep breath and read “Rantonio Porter.” Half the people cried in misery that an eighteen-year-old was chosen while half of them left out a sigh of relief, but quickly tensed up as the second drawing was done.

Lebanon took the paper from the bird and unraveled it slowly. His eyes, however, shot to the size of a full moon. He turned to glance at the Savior, whose eyes were weary from lack of sleep. It’s me. It has to be me. That look says it all. What will happen? I zoned out, still thinking about my father, who has now inspired me and taught me the real meaning behind true love. I wouldn’t even mind since I would be able to reunite with Dad in Heaven and truly understand his love, but this time correctly. I want to start over.Then, Lebanon read “Our Savior.” All eyes were on me; it seemed ironic that they had to sacrifice their Savior. Lebanon then asked me what my real name was. Although shaking with terror at the fact that I was chosen, I replied, “Ganderson McGuirre, Chief.” Lebanon looked stunned, he repeated, “Mc..Mc..McGuirre?” “Yes, sir.” “Son of Henry McGuirre?” “Yes, sir.” Lebanon looked like an asteroid had just hit him. The crowd also let out a murmur.

Lebanon gave a prayer for my family, feeling guilty that two of us were sacrificed and that Henry’s wish of them living well could not be fulfilled. Nevertheless, tradition was tradition and they couldn’t change the rules. Lebanon called Rantonio Porter and Ganderson McGuirre to the front and gave them each a stone to carve our wishes onto.

I engraved my wish on the smooth surface of the grey stone- I wish to send my blessings to my mother in the Hawaiian seas and to tell her that I will always love her and that I will watch over her with papa in heaven. Drain her worries and let her live happy. I wish that my mother would forget the past, but only the bitter and dismal events of the past. I wish that she would live the rest of her life with jubilance, using the money that Papa gave us, with my blessings, and with the erased memories of father and me for our deaths will be too painful for her weak heart.

My second wish is that she will not fall into a world beneath like we did, but if she must do so, please don’t sacrifice her, for we sacrificed ourselves for her.With that, the competition began as Lebanon launched a special arrow with the head of a mallet attached to it. The arrow flew thirty feet and hit a flat metal disc they invented, which is now called the “gong.” The disc made a loud noise that sounded just like its name to signal the start of the competition. Only a few hours passed until the gong was hit again to signal the end of the competition.

I opened my eyes. Dad? Dad! Is that you? It is you! Where are we? Upon being sacrificed, I was now part of God’s gifts, and I had the opportunity to watch over my mother for the rest of her life with Dad. I saw her back in Hawaii, as a migraine hit her. She felt dizzy and nauseous, and went out to the deck of the cruise to inhale some fresh air. She looked out into the vast sea, and there she saw a white cross that was tied with a scarf sewn with tribal drawings on it. On the cross were the words, “R.I.P. H.M. & G.M. (Henry and Ganderson McGuirre) May God Bless You” engraved on it. “How queer,” she said out loud. The sight of that really hurt me; my mother really did forget about us. I knew I had to keep strong though since I asked for this. I would rather see her in this state than in another state of depression filled with tears of a river.

After the migraine had hit her, my mother felt lost. I heard her murmur, “What am I doing on a cruise? How did I get here? Am I dreaming? I need to get back to mum and pops.” She then called my grandma and said she would be home in a few and that she had no idea how she got onto a cruise. Grandma sounded utterly confused and kept asking, “Are you all right, sweetie?” I kept hearing Mom reply, “Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” That night, Mom went back to her luxurious mansion, and her parents were overjoyed with tears to see her back. After hearing her story, Grandma and Grandpa told her not to worry about it and that everything is fine now.

One year has passed since my death and two since my father’s. We have been living happily in Heaven, and I finally got to feel the father-son love I never felt. We played baseball all day, and he continued to train me to be a captain in the skies above. I was finally able to feel my father’s genuine smile rather than just hear his deep, strict voice demanding me to perfection. I finally felt it after aimlessly trying to earn it over the years; I felt his warmth and boundless love. I was also happy to see my mother back on track with her pursuit in creating designer brand clothing, a dream she always wanted to fulfill. Grandma and Grandpa have given her the title of CEO of the McGuirre Clothing Design, and I haven’t seen Mom this blissful since my birth. Her light green eyes and bright smile continue to radiate happiness to others as she lives life as one of the most successful woman in the industry, who spreads love through her meaningful creations.

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