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