I was happy once, poor, always poor but happy. I stood over the love of my life, Allison, her eyes barely open as she gazed at our newborn child, our beautiful baby daughter Erika. The ramshackle hospital wasn't much, the technology was outdated but we got by and made it through the labour without any complications. When the doctors returned though, their faces were grim, their expressions told me all I needed to know before they even spoke.
"We are very sorry, your daughter..." I waved to show I understood, but I just wanted to enjoy the moment. The last moment of true happiness I would ever have.
Allison had a rare genetic disease you see, her life was on a ticking timer. It was unlikely that she would even live long enough to conceive and birth a child, she beat those odds but chance conspired against my dear Erika. For the infant child inherited her mother's disease, she, like her mother would not live past thirty, not with the meager funds we lived on. Were I a richer man I could have paid for treatment, could have kept my two beautiful girls around until Allison and I were both old and grey. I am not a rich man now, and I never was before.
I was a soldier in my youth, but I never cared for the fighting or the cause. I didn't fight because I thought it was right, I fought because the stipends helped me feed and clothe my wife, helped me keep my daughter healthy while I could. I saw wretched and terrible things, but nothing compared to the feeling of holding a young woman, my daughter in my arms and feeling her body go cold.
I've worked many jobs, done and seen many things, but now I feel there is nothing left for me. I volunteered for this mission, this voyage, because I don't believe I shall return.
