A jackhammer rattled in Frank Gunn's hands as he chipped away at the concrete mindlessly. The noise was loud and drowned out his thoughts, leaving him only with his memories.

The wedding ring on his finger caught the sunlight, forcing him to reflect on the life he had built, before ultimately losing almost everything.

Jasmine, she had been his world. Small and delicate while he was large and rough, she had long blonde hair that used to catch the light just like his ring was doing now.

They'd been an odd pair, him at six-foot-two built like a truck on a diet of cheeseburgers, her barely reaching his shoulders. Still, there were few who could call them a bad pair. She'd been the dreamer to his pragmatist, the spark to his steady flame.

They had a simple wedding, and bought a house with his savings when she finished her criminal psychology degree. The first two years of their marriage had been quiet and happy with him taking care of their home while she built her career.

Then Ana was born, their daughter. She was a little mirror of her mother, right down to those tiny blue eyes that stole his heart every time he saw them. The only thing she took from him was his jet black hair.

Their family lasted for 6 months. 

That was all the time they had before John White, one of Jasmine's patients, took almost everything away.

Jasmine had just returned to work after her maternity leave when John, who seemed to show great progress prior to her leave, unexpectedly stabbed her with a shiv whittled from a toothbrush he had smuggled in.

Frank often remembered the prison guards' call. He remembered how he couldn't breathe. How he clung to Ana, both of them sobbing on the floor until his parents found them hours later.

To this day, he hadn't recovered from the depression that followed, but he kept that detail hidden from Ana. She was too young to remember Jasmine when she died, another fact that caused his heart to break, but it was a blessing for her. She didn't have to feel the pain he did.

Having nothing else he could do, he threw himself into work, taking every overtime shift his job offered.

He sold the house they had built. Without Jasmine it didn't feel like home anymore, and the mortgage was well outside of his budget, opting instead for a small, run down two bedroom apartment.

Some nights, after tucking Ana into bed, Frank would sit in the darkness of the living room and remember Jasmine's laugh, the way she'd scrunch her nose when she was thinking hard, how she'd always believed in giving second chances.

The forgiving nature that ultimately killed her.

Still, he never let these feelings leak through to Ana. If you asked her, her daddy was always strong, smiling, and there for her.

The truth was, without Ana, he wouldn't have survived Jasmine's death. She became his rock, his purpose, his only reason to live. Every extra dollar he earned went to her, whether it be a new book, a toy, whatever he felt would make her smile.

His own happiness seemed like a foreign concept, something that had died alongside Jasmine in that prison meeting room.

Life had taught Frank Gunn its cruelest lesson: love like theirs doesn't happen twice. The only thing this world had left to offer him was the promise of watching his daughter grow into a happy young woman.

And for that purpose, he would persevere through anything.