Daddy,

Do you remember what I said to you Friday night when you were getting very weak? I whispered in your ear, "Rest up ok, Daddy? I will wake you up tomorrow and we will talk more then." 4:30 Saturday morning, I finally slept. I woke up a few hours later, and your breathing had calmed down, but you still could not say much else. All morning on Saturday, the most I would get from you was a slight glance. You remained so strong despite the pain. You even cried a few tears in your last minutes with us. I know it was hard for you to leave us behind, but the cancer was a battle that you would only win if you left this earth and this body. When you left this earth, you looked so much at peace and even had a beautiful smile on your face. Despite how much it hurts me to lose such a loving person like you, I do believe you are in a happy place and that you are with me. As hard as it was to get through each day since your diagnosis, it has become even harder now. The next morning after your passing, I stayed in bed until late morning, thinking about you and crying myself back to sleep, guilted about whether you were suffering in your last day and that I wished Z could have been there to complete our family circle because that was always your happiest moments. You reassured me with your voice--and this time whispered in my ear, telling me that i should not worry because you were no longer hurting and that you missed us. Then today, as I again struggled to get up to start the day, you again whispered to me that you were happy with all the preparations we were doing for you. Father, I don't know why it is that we have this connection, but I do believe you are here with me.

Our time as a family truly was too short, but looking back, we had no words of regret. You left behind a very heart-broken family, but we are all filled with many wonderful reminders of what a loving father should be like. We will make your ceremony one that will give you a wonderful return to your homeland with Grandfather. I love you and will miss you all of my life.

She who will make her father proud,
your daughter

Kuv Txiv,

Cas kuv yuav nco thiab quaj txog koj mus txog hnub twg os txiv ua hlub kuv tshaj plaws? Cas kuv yuav nyob ntawm kuv lub xovtooj seb puas hnov koj hu tuaj seb kuv ua dabtsi los ntshe tsuas pom hauv npau suav lawm xwb os kuv txiv.

Cas ntshe kuv sau li no los koj twb twm tsis tau os kuv txiv. Cas koj yuav txawj hlub peb tsev neeg es yuav ua rau peb quaj pes tsawg pluag rau koj na? Kuv paub hais tias koj yeej hlub kuv niam thiab peb cov menyuam es koj thiaj li ntxeem txog niaj hnub no os kuv me txiv.

Thoj kom koj tsuas mus zoo xwb os kuv txiv tus ua hlub kuv nrog tag koj lub siab. Mus tau ib daim ntawv zoo es koj thiaj li tsis txom nyem es seb peb puas los ua ib tsev neeg ntxiv os, vim hais tias tiam no tsuas zoo li npau suav xwb es twb tsis tau rhuav ua koj tus ntxhais li os kuv txiv.

Koj mus lawm los, yog lawv hais lus Mekas rau koj es koj txhob ntshais os kuv txiv. Peb cov me nyuam mam sau ib tsab ntawv nrog koj ua luag es kom koj txhob poob kev es kom koj mus rau qhov zoo xwb os. Cas kuv yuav nco koj ua rau kuv lub siab mob tshaj plaws.

Koj txhob txhawj txog kuv niam thiab peb cov menyuam. Koj ua ib tug qauv zoo tshaj plaws rau peb ua neej es peb yeej yuav tsis ua koj txaj muag nawb kuv txiv.

Kuv yuav khaws koj rau kuv nruab siab mus tag ib txhis. Kuv yeej yuav tsis ntshaw luag txiv vim kuv paub hais tias koj yeem tseem yuav pov hwm peb tsev neeg nawb.

Koj tus me ntxhais ua yuav nco ntsoov koj lub ntsej muag mus tag ib txhis,
kuv

Dearest Father,

How I pray we get to spend Christmas time with you. We will all soon be reunited again on this sad holiday season as it is likely the last one we'll get to spend with you. I try so hard to think of the good times we had while you were still healthy and can't help but be angry that there was still so much left for us to do together. I feel like a child pouting, "Why? Why? Why?". Why you, why us, why now? I hate it. I hate it all--the pain, the suffering, the loss of who you are and what you stand for. I hate how cancer is taking this all away so slowly and there is not one fucking thing I can do about it except reassure my mom that we need to give you more pain medicine so that you do not suffer so much.

I sit there and stare at you in your bed as you explain to me about each of your pains. You say, "No more radiation. No more chemo." You can't even eat well because food is getting stuck. I worry this is too because of the cancer.

You don't even enjoy those simple things you used to anymore--like wrestling, or watching those dubbed movies. You just get up to eat and then sleep for the rest of the day.

There is nothing good about your illness that I can see at the moment. I feel no happiness, no holiday spirit--I think right now I feel nothing but sadness, sorrow, and hold my breath for the moment which you will leave us to join Grandpa. I think even after that, there will be more sorrow and sadness, but at least at that point, you will be painfree.

One who wishes her father a painless day,
your daughter

Dearest Father,

Funny, how I was just about to start my vacation--my foot was just about the door of the hospital when I got a message from mom that she was worried about you and were bringing you to the emergency room here at my work. I waited, for what felt like an eternity, before you arrived. And, in my heart, I was afraid for you. I knew my trip to Florida would likely be on hold.

We worried very much for you these last few days. Your pain was so intense, your breathing so labored. After looking at all the images this week, I suspect that after Monday's visit with the oncologist, you had the fluid around the lungs removed. In the process of doing that, a part of your lung was punctured and you progressively had more and more pain and distress. You agreed to the chest tube to remove the excess fluid and air that had escaped from the punctured lung to see if the hole would seal on its own. It has been 2 days, and still the lower portions of your right lung are not improving. Doctors aren't sure why this is the case. They have to rule out something in the airway (like a tumor or a mucous plug) first. If that is negative, then we may have you seen by the lung surgeon specialist to see if you might benefit from surgery to peel of the lining of the lung that may be stopping it from expanding. But I have a feeling this is something you wouldn't want to do... and so we wait and see what our options are and what you will agree to.

I am glad I cancelled my trip to Florida. My dear father, I remember you saying to me as we were waiting for the chest tube to be placed and as you were crying...."See, it's things like this that your mom was so worried about you leaving for your trip to Florida for. You come here and are able to tell them everything that they need to know so that they can take care of me." Yes, dad. I know. I hope I can do what I need to do to make you better as long as you want us to.

I love you.

We all love you.

May this bronchoscopy go well for you.

Your forever daughter,
Shary

Dearest Father,

Almost 2 weeks had gone by and I had not had a chance to spend with you so my visit tonight was overdue in my heart. I'm glad you're able to eat a bit more these days. But, that's usually a good thing because that means you're doing well. It was a good dinner tonight, right dad? Mom has made "laj" 2 times this week because you love it so much. She was so proud of her "laj." She, too, is such an amazing woman who is truly the definition of a mother--always, always puts her family before herself and always sheltering and providing for us all, especially you. She's dealing with so much, yet, she remains so strong.

Tomorrow, we go to another appointment with the oncologist and you will likely get your 4th chemotherapy treatment. Will this be your last chemo appointment for a while? Will you have responded to this new chemotherapy regimen? I am praying silently in my heart that it does--that your suffering was met with some reward. But, I also worry since you've developed a hoarse voice in the last weeks, Ifear if this could be due to some tumor/lymph node that has enlarged affecting your recurrent laryngeal nerve. It used to be an intermittent thing but, now has been constant. As our family has done for the last few months, we will continue to wait to see how this will all play out. Please don't be scare dad.

You got to try a piece of my cake tonight, and that made me so happy dad. I wish there were more things in this world I could do for you or show you, but reality pulls me in so many directions. I want to just take you away from all of this somehow. So that you're not reminded everyday about this thing that tries to take over your body.

Please continue to laugh like you did tonight. My heart cried when you told me that wherever I decide to go next year, that I stay close enough to you because you don't want to miss me. Thank you for loving me father. I will carry this with me forever. I will always be your daughter.

With belief that all will be well,
Your daughter

Dearest Father,

I hope you are enjoying the weather today. But, somehow, I know in my heart you are sad. This used to be your favorite time of year--when you would go to the shooting range and get your gun ready for squirrel hunting. My brother is still hunting, though he is going without his favorite partner. The neuropathy and fatigue make you a prisoner in your home. You still haven't been able to drive your new car yet.

Last week when we went to see the nurse practitioner, you only weighed 109 lbs. You've lost ~15lbs since starting chemo. We talked about your fatigue--and how you spend your days between your bed and the recliner we bought you--how it's such a chore for you to do much more. How much you struggle to even eat a meal. Life is not as it once was, and I don't know if we'll ever get back to that Dad.

I see how loose your clothes fit your body and it's a hard sight to see but I know you're trying Dad. The other day I was talking to a friend about how frustrating it is to see you suffer so much just because you want to be with us for as long as you can. I don't want you to think about us--I don't want you to hurt for us. But she said to me so poignantly, "Can you think of any better reason for someone to fight and suffer?" I did tear up at that moment, because I know in my heart that there is no other better reason, is there Dad?

We go back Friday for more chemo, and hopefully less nausea this time around. Dad, I know I tell you this all the time, but I love you. I've been trying out a cake recipe and want to perfect it by the time your 63rd birthday comes around in a few weeks. Keep strong and eat much please my dear father.

In awe of her Father's sacrifices,
your loving daughter

Dearest Father,

It seems as if we have one thing after another, huh Daddy? I am hopeful the confusion is due to the pain and anti-nausea medications you were taking...I don't even want to consider this might be spread of the cancer. I know that was your biggest fear when I saw you tonight though. I felt your fear and your concern without you even saying it. How scary must that be for you dad? To realize that you couldn't remember the last day. Daddy, I'm still praying for you in my heart. I love you so much and hate that all I can do is share the medical knowledge I know with you.

God, or whoever is up there, and Grandpa please see how much my father is suffering and take care of him. Ease his pains and make his worries go away. He is such a strong man but cannot take so much in this body of his--make him stronger, eat more and give him all the energy in the world. I beg of you....please take care of him. He still has so much left to do and see in this world. He is not yet ready to go.

Daddy, please stay strong and positive...

Holding your hand every step of the way,
your daughter

Dearest Father,

It has now been one week since your chemotherapy treatment. And, sooner than we all expected, you are now in the hospital because your white count is too low and you are having fevers. Oh, dad, how I wish this wasn't so. How I wished the chemotherapy would have staved off the progression of the cancer without causing so much side effect. You haven't been able to walk much because of the severe muscle and joint aches, not been able to eat much because you've been bloated, diarrheal, and now constipated and have lost 6 lbs in just 1 week, have a new rash, peripheral neuropathy, and quite fatigued with it all. You're not laughing or smiling as much and needing to take pain meds around the clock. My fingers are crossed and so many people are praying for you dad, so please hang in there. At least the promising news is that the pleural effusion is not building up as much as last week....I hope that means the cancer itself is not progressing.

Every night, you're getting so many visitors that you're not even getting a chance to rest much. Though most have been positive, there have been a few people in there with conspiracy theories that you were not given meds to try and kill cancer cells, but really just poisoned. You're so brave and have so much faith in "western" medicine that you just laugh that off. I am so touched how much you believe in "modern" medicine. You have so much hope and belief in this stuff that is done to you and you don't question the motives of your providers. I love you for that. For your ability to think beyond fear. You are a smart man. I know I say it all the time, but I am so proud to be your daughter.

Daddy, I don't know how you are dealing with your emotions these days because you're constantly having to think about your physical health. But to be honest with you, I think I am past the grieving, angry, "why us?" stage. I am now in the fight-to-the-end mode. Going to work and keeping busy has been good. I sometimes forget the reality of the situation until I come see you and then have to face the truth in front of me. It's so hard to see you suffering. The tears, too, have come less and less--except for the other day. My brother surprised you with the new RAV4 that you have been eyeing for quite some time now--4 years to be exact. I still remember how you gave me your RAV4 that you had worked terrible back-breaking hours to get. My rusted 87 Toyota camry finally died on me and I needed to drive around to the different hospital sites for medical school so you gave me your "baby" and instead took the huge family truck. You gave that up for me, dad so that I could be here today. That is not fair what you are going through dad. Please, please, please get better. You finally got a car and need to get better so that you can drive your car and feel that pedal beneath your foot...

I wish there was a pill for cancer, daddy. I wish it were that easy. You have been so awesome about taking your medications after you had your heart attack two years ago. You have always been the best patient ever. I pray you are rewarded for being the best father, husband, and patient ever...

With hopes abound that you will make a quick recovery and leave this hospital,
your daughter

Dearest Father,

I just got off the phone with you trying to decide whether you should go to the ER tonight because the fluid around your lungs have accumulated faster than last week. It makes it hard for you to even climb stairs. You are also uncomfortable and having a harder time sleeping now. Oh, how my heart aches for you and your suffering. The thought never crossed my mind ever that my very own father would be walking the halls of the the hospital which has occupied the past 3 years of my life.

I remember, daddy, thinking whether I wanted to move away for residency. I wanted so much to see the world, ya know? Be on my own. But I ended up staying in town because I knew you and mommy were getting older. And, sure enough, first year of residency, you had that massive heart attack. I remember that scared everyone in the family. If any of us missed a phone call from you, we made sure to call you back. And then just after my Hmoob wedding, you started having some stomach pains. Worried that you were having more heart troubles, we brought you to the ER. They never figured out why you had the pain, but they did find that you had a worriesome looking tumor on your left kidney. After watching it for a few months and seeing it had grown, you decided to get it treated by freezing the tumor. And then we waited again, getting images every few months or so. And, as it looked finally that the kidney tumor was not active anymore, now you have locally metastatic cancer. You're always worried, mom is always crying. Everyone is dealing with this news in their own way. I'm finding these letters to you and some Hmoob music to be my solace. My brother, I'm sure is crying in privacy--trying to be strong in his own way for you, but so terrified to lose his best friend. You two have such a wonderful relationship. Mommy tells me that he always checks in on you every night before he goes to bed. And big sister M is already having so much responsibilities in caring for her in-laws that my heart goes out to her too. I can't even imagine how Z feels being so far away and feeling helpless. Big S has been driving up here, hauling her family from Rochester more often these last few months so that she can spend time with you and make it to as many appointments as she can. She's the biggest crybaby of us all, but this time around, daddy she's been trying to stay strong for you. Little S, I'm sure is having a hard time concentrating on her school work and job. The time she has to spend with you competes with her other responsibilities and I'm sure she struggles with that. I always thought it was silly for her to sleep at the foot of you and mommy's bed when she would stay over at your house, but now I envy that I didn't get to enjoy such simple things with you two. And the baby girl of the family who wears her heart on her sleeves I'm sure feels robbed most of all. She is still working on defining who she is, and would be so lost without you. And daddy, I can't imagine how the 13 grandchildren will miss you--for many of them who may have to get to know you through pictures. I think of my future children--how I never imagined they would never get to meet you--your warm smile and perfect teeth, your laugh, love for steak and fishing, your promptness, and mostly the love you have given to everyone who has crossed paths for you.

I hope and pray to all the gods out there, to keep you with us for a while longer. You have worked so hard and given up so much in your life for me, and I've not had the chance to repay you yet. I know I will never get to repay you for all you have given me, I just want to time to try and accomplish as much of that as I can.

Sleep well tonight daddy. Wake up feeling rested. We will resolve this fluid build-up so that you will be most comfortable.

With kisses from she who feels completely helpless,
your daughter

Dearest Father,

Thank you for letting me go after my dreams of becoming a doctor. Thank you for letting me leave your home before I was married so I could focus on my studies. I know there are many Hmoob people who have disagreed with your contemporary thoughts that daughters should be allowed the same privileges as sons. They resent that to this day, even. Even, now, knowing that you have cancer, people are saying that to my mother. "Your breastmilk was wasted on your daughters. They leave the home and you can't get one meal out of them." "You give your children such big dowries but watch, if you should need any money, they will give it to you but expect you to pay it back." Of all things in this world that matter in your life at this time...why must people say such things? Out of jealousy, spite, anger? Dad, you are too kind to say anything to people. But to these people I would like to say something, "Please keep your stupid, backward comments to yourself. My father has cancer. And please be rest assured that I will do everything in my power to ensure my father has suffers the least--whether it is time or money--because he is my father. And I will gladly take that worry away from him. As my father did not choose to have Stage IV cancer, I did not choose to be a daughter."

Daddy, please know that you did not close any doors on me and I will never close any doors on you.

She who will be with you every step of the way,
your daughter

Dearest Father,

Mom tells me you've not since eaten 8pm last night in preparation for today's PET scan and MRI of the brain. You must be very hungry, huh? We can eat what you like after all the imaging studies today. And she also tells me that you have been having some discomfort and needing tylenol constantly. Oh, dad, I wish so much that I could help you relieve some of your pain.

Is your heart heavy, as is mine? I never knew what it felt like to walk around with a heavy heart but I have understood that all to well these last few days. The only way I escape is when I drown out my thoughts with music.

I don't want to go to sleep because when I wake up another day will have come. I lay there in bed and have no desire to get up and face the day. Perhaps, it is because it is one less day I will have with you....and maybe, if the next day doesn't come, that means you will be here with me still. Because there is so much we have yet to do Dad--like that trip to Thailand next summer...

Oh, Dad, I am asking for so many people to pray for you, that we will beat the odds.

Love you with every ounce of me,
your daughter

PS I'm crying right now because my mom crying and telling me about the conversation you had with grandma....that you told her you might go before her as you have been telling my mother. I don't think my mom is doing too well with all of this. She is crying all of the time.

Dearest Father,

Some fathers and daughters go through life not sure how much they love one another. But I know in my heart how much you love me. And I am sure you know how much I love you. I want to take this pain away from you so much daddy, but I can't this time. I am so grateful I have been with you during your most scared moments--when you were having your heart attack, when you were recovering from your procedure to freeze the kidney cancer, and when you had the lung biopsy and thoracentesis last week to confirm that you now have stage IV lung cancer. I thought that all these years of medical training would make the experience easier for me to handle. But it has been so hard, daddy.

I stare at you a lot more than I used to. I study your expressions, trying to get a sense of what you are thinking inside. There are probably alot of emotions you're dealing with, but I think you are not ready to let us go. I know you said yesterday that you'll try any life-prolonging measurements because we love you too much and you want to be with us for as long as you can. I'm not surprised you said that dad because that is always how you've been. You have alway put your love for us first. You have taken a lot of crap from people because of that. I still will not forgive people for blaming you for Grandpa's death--that if you had not been selfish to move to Minnesota to better your children's lives, then grandfather wouldn't have missed you and had the stroke. And since you had your heart attack and have been taking your medications, people have blamed that as the cause for the cancer. They have blamed my mother not giving you enough of the herbal teas as the reason this has now happened. Yet, you will not accept such accusations. Because you love us so much. You protect us so much. You even gave us hope last night when you said you would try to see what kind of response you will get if you are offered chemotherapy. Even if you didn't want to try anything anymore, I would have supported you dad. Even if it is not what I would have done, because your body suffers alone dad, you suffer alone.

I think about all the things you and I and mom have done together and I am thankful. I want to do more with you though because we still have so much time left together. So please, don't give up on life. I have not given up yet on you daddy.

With all of the love from my heart to you,
your daughter