Regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life. -- Maya Angelou

Closing the door behind, Alicia walked into the house, carrying two plastic bags. Sitting in the couch at the living room, I glanced over my shoulder and met her gaze.

"Oh, hey. Mornin', Dad."

I stood up from my seat and started my way towards her, as she placed the bags on the dining table and took off her cardigan before pouring herself a glass of water from the jug.

"Morning," I glanced at the contents of the bags, "You were out shopping this early?" It was only 8 after all.

"Yeah, I noticed that the refrigerator was running empty and it will be easier to get them for you before leaving tomorrow."

As she chugged down the water, I proceeded to store the fruits and vegetables into the refrigerator. "Thanks, Alicia."

She hummed a reply, washing the glass at the basin. "Leave the tray of eggs and packet of sausages outside. I'll make breakfast."

Placing the pan on top of the stove, she turned to me. "You want sunny-side up eggs right?"

Right this second, you walked into the kitchen, passing through Alicia to get to the basin and back to the stove.

"Yup."

As Alicia turned on the knob and started to fry the eggs, I watched as you stood at the stove beside her. She was so close to you, yet she didn't, and would never know. I guess it wasn't fair that way. Maybe I will tell her someday. But not yet.

Watching you both at the same time, I realized how much Alicia resembled you. Do you remember how many times people commented on how you two looked alike? Yeah, almost everyone. She was your carbon copy.

But as more wrinkles crawled onto your face, and the childishness leaving Alicia's, it wasn't the same anymore. Like the shadow had left its owner.

"So, Alicia," I started, "How's it going with your boyfriend?"

As soon as the word left my mouth, a series of clattering boomed followed by a yelp. The pan had fallen off the stove, and Alicia was holding up her hand, her face twisted in pain.

I jumped out of my seat and rushed over in quick steps.

"Are you okay?" I looked closely at her fingers, which were slightly red.

"Very mild burns. I'm fine."

I grabbed her wrist gently, leading her to the sink and turning on the tap, letting the cold water rinse her burns. She winced when the water came in contact with her fingers but relaxed after a few seconds.

"Be careful when you're dealing with fire. Hadn't I drilled that into you already?" I said sternly.

"How can you not know where you got these from? Don't they hurt?"

"They do!"

"Repeat to me what I've been telling you."

"Don't run around the house, and keep away from sharp objects and high places. Don't bother mom when she's cooking." She recited monotonously. A second later, as though someone had switched on the lights to a dark room, she suddenly brightened up. "And go to Daddy when I'm hurt! He can take the pain away!"

I laughed. "That last part wasn't what I said. I'm not a magician, Alicia."

"But it's true! So I'm gonna keep doing that!"

Sweeping her off the ground, I hugged her close. "Alright, you do that. Come to me, whenever it hurts, and Daddy will always take the pain away."

This reminded me of when she was younger as new cuts and bruises would appear on some parts of her body every other day. Alicia didn't even know where she got them from. She was just that clumsy. Only when her wounds stung did she came to me. It always gave me such a shock to see her bleeding from just anywhere on her body. Sometimes, I'd lecture her a little too long on being more careful. Perhaps she got sick about it and went to you instead.

Some things really won't change.

"I can't help it. You surprised me there." Her voice pulled me out of my thoughts, as our gazes met. Her hopeful eyes brought me so much nostalgia, as though twenty years hadn't pass at all, and she was still my clumsy, cheerful eight year old Alicia, as I was still a superhero to her.

Shaking off those thoughts, I shook my head at her. "Well, it's my fault then?"

She grinned. "I guess."

Turning off the tap, I dried off her hand with a hand towel. "If it still hurts later, apply some ointment. It's in the bottom right compartment of the cabinet in the living room."

"I know. I'm the reason it's there, right? Been quite some time since I had to listen to all these though." Alicia let out a chuckle.

"I hoped you would grow out of your clumsiness. But seems like it's stuck to you."

"Can't do much about it." She shrugged, before bending down to pick up the fallen pan. "It's probably inherited."

"No one is as clumsy as you, Alicia." I sighed, holding out my hand for her to pass me the pan. "I'll do the rest. You want yours scrambled, right?"

"Yep! Thanks, Dad." She laughed fondly at me with her elbows on the dining table supporting her head. You were seated beside her, in the very same pose.

I smiled.

"On a side note, how about we continue that topic we left off just now?"

I heard a groan from her, but the smile never left her face.

*

I rapped my knuckles against the wooden door and called out, "Erik?"

After knocking for a few more times with silence as the only response, I grabbed the door knob. "I'm coming in!"

I was greeted with the sight of closed windows and curtains, the only source of light coming from the table, and the backside of Erik. It was dark and suffocating in here. Erik was working on something with full concentration, presumably one of his paintings again, for him to had not realize me entering the room.

"Erik?"

Finally, my voice had reach his ears as he snapped up and scrambled around a little before turning around quickly.

"What is it?" He asked in his husky and exhausted voice with an almost unnoticeable frown.

"It's time for breakfast." I said. "Did you stay up all night?"

"Yeah." He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. "I think I'll skip breakfast."

Frowning at his answer, I walked into the room, making my way towards Erik. He had already turned his back at me and dove back into working.

"It's already 9. You need to rest up even if you're not eating."

Erik immediately covered up whatever he was working on with his body when I was behind him.

"I'm not tired. I don't feel like eating either. I promise I'll be out for lunch, okay? Let me finish this." He frowned at me, pursing his lips to show annoyance.

"Why are you so worried of me looking?" I raised an eyebrow. He was always brimming with excitement and hope whenever he finished a painting and showed it to us. Although the last time that happened was two years ago.

"That..." He bit his lips, "I just...It's not finished. Don't look. Please."

Looking closely at him, his eyes were unfocused and bloodshot. I mentally sighed, thinking about all the times he had stayed up when he was living alone.

"I'm staying here if you don't get up from there." I crossed my arms.

He widened his eyes and opened his mouth -- mostly like to protest -- but no sound came out. After a minute of staring at me, he let out a loud, exasperated sigh.

"Fine. I'll have breakfast. Just give me a minute, okay?" He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, I'll see you then."

*

After breakfast, when Erik attempted to go back to working without resting, I insisted that he stay with him in the living room. Now he was sitting beside me, watching the TV -- or just staring -- with a scowl.

"So, how's everything going along?" I fiddled with the remote control in my hands, speaking softly but loud enough to cover over the noises coming from the TV.

"Fine."

"Have you settled in? Do you have everything you need?"

"I'm doing alright, Dad. You don't have to worry."

It was harder talking to Erik. His answers were always short and precise, and never seemed to leave others with room for more questions or to continue the conversation. Like he was doing it on purpose, keeping up a wall, to shoo other people away. But not me. I'm not others. I'm his father.

"And your work?" I could feel him stiffening. "Have you gotten anywhere you wanted to?"

Erik stayed silent, as he always did. I stole a sideways glance at him, and saw how perplexed he looked. Chasing after arts was never an easy road to walk down. But it was the first thing Erik had shown such interest and passion in. It wasn't easy letting him do that. I objected at first, didn't I?

You were the one who kept on pestering me to agree.

Choosing my words carefully, I spoke softly, afraid that I would hurt him in any possible ways. "It's fine to take it slow. We don't achieve great things over a night's time. Don't fret over it."

He nodded hesitantly, as though he was surprised. He should be. With such words coming from me who objected his dream at first.

"You want to study arts? Are you serious? What can you even do after getting your degree? Look at your cousin, Jake! He's still jobless after graduating for two years! Choose something else." I fumed at him.

"No! It's what I want. I've thought over it many times already. It's the only thing that I feel right about! Don't crush my dreams! I can decide what I want to do with my life." He retorted with a fierce glare with determination flaring in his eyes. That look he directed at me had caused me to waver slightly. Who would have thought that the quiet, meek child would be shouting on top of his lungs at me now?

"I'm not saying arts is wrong." I sighed in exasperation, trying a gentler approach, "Don't you see? Those that pursue arts...it's hard for them. Nine out of ten who walk down this path strays off it."

I don't want you to suffer. Can't you choose an easier life? One that I can worry a little lesser?

"I'll be the one that gets to the destination."

That was the first time I realized that Erik was growing up without myself noticing. As hard as it felt, it was time to let go.

"You'll get there." I smiled at him. "To the destination."

He finally snapped out of his trance and looked at me right in the eyes. I wondered what he saw, but the only thing that I know was how glad I felt for letting him run towards his dream. Letting go of my grip on his hand, watching him running full speed ahead, brimming with such happiness even if it was tough.

The only thing I can do is help him up when he stumbles.

The corners of his lips slowly curved into a smile. Light wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, a result of his smile reaching there.

"Thanks, Dad."

Even though his answer was just as short as his previous one, it warmed my heart so much, because I could feel the sincerity in it.

Unable to contain the huge smile that broke out, I ruffled his hair. "You're welcome."

I continued, "Can I see your painting? It's fine even if it's in progress. I'd love to see how a masterpiece-to-be looks like before it's done."

He paused and looked away, and I thought I stepped onto something I shouldn't had.

"Oh, it's fine if you--"

"Okay. Let me get it from my room." He stood up then, leaving me sitting there in shock.

When he showed me his painting later, he was so bright, just like how he used to be years ago. So bright, hopeful and beautiful.

He was our star, wasn't he? Our star that would never dim, lighting up our lives from the day he was born.

Erik hadn't grown up after all. That excited look of his didn't change one bit as he rambled on about his painting, trying his best to explain it.

When he was done, he gently placed the painting down and looked at me. He bit his lips and asked, "Can I draw a portrait of you, Dad?" Erik held up a blank canvas and a pencil.

I blinked at him, but it didn't take me too long to answer.

"Of course."

And it was such a blissful thing to be able to watch over his dreams.

*

I woke up to camera shutter sounds. With a wide and mischievous grin, Alicia stood right in front of me and clicked her phone multiple times.

When I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, she held a finger to her lips and mouthed 'shh'.

I held back my words and glanced to my side, where I was suddenly conscious of a weight on my shoulder.

Erik had fallen asleep, leaning against my right shoulder. We both must have fallen asleep after he was done with my portrait.

I stopped myself from chuckling, at the sight of such an unguarded, childish-looking Erik lightly snoring away so close to me.

It was just like good old times, as though time was turned back to twelve years ago, when I had come home from work and Erik stayed beside me silently.

For a second -- with Erik beside me and Alicia giggling away in front of me -- I was truly happy again, like nothing had changed. My heart was calm, knowing that there were things that would never ever change, even with your absence.

For the next few hours, I didn't move an inch.

*

The next morning, Alicia and Erik went back to their own places after we had breakfast together.

Somehow, it felt like many things had changed after their visit this time.

I glanced at the new addition to our wall of framed pictures and paintings. It started with our wedding photo, and Alicia's baby pictures and soon our family pictures. My portrait was hung right next to the paintings Erik had completed seven years ago, when he first discovered his love for drawing. There was such a huge gap in terms of the skills used for the paintings. Erik had really improved.

I scribbled on a post-it note and stuck it on the refrigerator.

'Buy a new frame for the picture.', it said. A printed picture of Erik and I -- both sleeping on the couch in the living room -- with half of Alicia's face at the corner was stuck next to it.

It had been so long since I had to buy new frames.

Moving away the potted plant that was taking up the space at the right side of the wall, I smiled at the now freed, blank space. It looked like a taintless blank canvas.

Let's hope it gets filled up soon.