Hung Pham

*These revision notes refer only to this section (Introduction): O: 6/11/09, R: 6/11/09, 6/14/09, 6/15/09, 6/18/09, 7/20/09

I didn't start this until a few days after I found out my father was battling stage four cancer, so the earlier days are a little jumbled. Days can quickly blur when you're faced with dire news, I guess.

Starting on Thursday, June 11th, it is much more "real-time". I hope I can keep it updated as much as possible. It is in chronological order, with the newest entries at the bottom.

This is a place to keep people updated, and for myself, as I work through this. It's helpful to get my thoughts out, as well as keep people up-to-date with his condition.

*Edited (6/11/09):
Some might wonder why I would have such information on a public forum, but I realize that our situation is not unique. The fact of the matter is that everyday, someone, somewhere is going through this. In developing and creating this, I have made sure that what I post is appropriate to be public, and reflects what I am going through, while describing the best I can, my father and mother's experiences as well.

*Edited (6/14/09):
I have only begun to understand how much life is packed into such a small frame. When I listen to stories, I realize my father excelled as a student, fought in the Vietnam War in the Navy, fled his home country to come here, worked hard his entire life, had a store, taught many students Vovinam (Vietnamese martial arts). Like me (or should I say, I am like him?), he never stops moving - he says he doesn't care to be idle. Might explain why I work full-time, teach part time, and go to graduate school part-time. People wonder how I do it all, and I wonder if I could/should be doing more. It's in my blood and I can't help it. I am learning where this drive came from - it is no accident.

*Edited (6/15/09):
Now that the news is spreading, support has come in from all directions, lost friends, old friends, and new friends; both in real and virtual communities:

• My fellow bikers on BBO, BAB, and NESR
• Fellow (Subaru) car enthusiasts over on NESIC
• Countless emails, texts, phone calls, messages/wall posts on Facebook, and even Tweets.

THANK YOU ALL!!!

*Edited (6/18/09):
People have been asking, so here are the photos of my niece! In the midst of it all, Amelia Lotus Brooks, born Tuesday, June 16th, 2009 at 4:39 AM in Philadelphia, PA. I don't have other specs handy...





More photos (and a video) can be viewed here

*Edited (7/20/09):
One month later, but the story doesn't end when a life does, in ways it is just beginning...

===

I can be reached via email @ hqp921@gmail.com

My father, Quang, and mother, Thuy, not long after his stroke in Spring of 2008. I was showing them the camera on my phone.

6/15/09: Went through some old photos last night. I will scan and post some favorites and fun ones.


Not sure what's going on here, but it does prove he was rockin' decals long before I thought it was cool. Not to mention the whole military/tight pants thing... (1980)


I wish I could remember the days like this. I asked him and my mom - they remembered this day/picture.


Me, my father, and my sister, Lynh. We always had the fanciest outfits... and more often then not, they were made by my parents.


One of my father's favorite pics of me. While I was talking to them earlier today (6/15/09), I told them I was looking at pictures, and he said this was his favorite. So I went and found it. He made those sea foam green shorts... (1984)

Today, I found out my father was battling stage IV cancer that was affecting his kidney and liver. I was at work, so I wrapped things up quickly, told the pertinent people and headed straight for the hospital. He had been admitted to the hospital a week earlier and only started showing symptoms of something being wrong a week or so before that. How quickly things can change within the blink of an eye.

No idea what the road ahead, however long or short it was, would be like. But I knew it would be pretty tough.

There was a lot of information to take in. On top of dire news, it was suggested that I start settling finances and things of that nature. I don't think anyone is ever prepared to do that, but I was not prepared to do that. But I had to. It is within me to do the right thing, no matter how difficult it may be. I must continue forward. It is what is instilled in me. It is what I do.

My father seemed to be okay, and both he and my mother seemed to understand the severity of the situation. He wasn't in physical pain. But he didn't understand. How can such an illness be so up and down? (He was having periods of extremely high fever/heart rate, and then it would stop and go back to normal).

I stayed as long as I could. My mother stayed the night. Tomorrow was another day.

Another day at the hospital for me. Even in just two short days, it seems I've lost track of time. I can only imagine what it's like to lie in a hospital bed for a week or more, losing touch with reality and time?

My mother and I spoke to someone about hospice. Not the kind of meeting anyone likes to hold. I'd certainly like to get him home under better conditions, but I knew we had to do this. I know it would mean the world to him to be at home. He, like many others, hates hospitals. Who can blame him? I had to check and double check that they understood what this meant. If he was coming home, it wasn't because he was "better"...

Later that day, Jess came in, I think. (Things begin to get fuzzy for me as at this point, I'm still writing from memory...). My father looked at us and asked, "What day is it?"

"Tuesday," I respond. "Shouldn't you be at work?" That's his nature. Do what you should, and not to let things get in your way. I didn't go to work, but I did get a phone call from work (Thank you, for you know who you are), and I did end up teaching two lessons in the evening.

I remember at some point, it must have been between Monday and today, that he laid out his wishes for the family. He was philosophical at points, saying everyone lives, and everyone dies. It is what you do in between that matters most.

He said everyone suffers. And you suffer the moment you are born unto this earth -- this is why the first thing babies do, is cry, and not laugh.

At times it seemed as though he was "at one" with the idea of death. His primary concerns were that my mother, then my sister and I, were taken care of. That there was no burden to bear from his passing. Financially, emotionally, or other.

We're all struggling through this, and it goes in waves of "okay-ness" to "not okay-ness." I guess that is only natural.

That night we witnessed him going into a fever... his body started shaking, his heartbeat and temperature rose, and he was having trouble breathing. It was scary. He was put on a nebuelizer and was still having trouble breathing for a while. Eventually it DID clear things up, and he was able to sleep. But it was really hairy there for a couple hours.

I woke up with low motivation today. I struggled to get up and going. I wasn't sure what I'd face if I went to the hospital, so I guess I decided to delay. Last night watching my father struggle was extremely difficult.

I got a phone call. From the hospital. I know from brief experience, that phone calls from hospitals aren't usually good.

This one was.

Although not sure, they thought that there was a possibility that part of the cancer he was fighting was lymphoma. Which, if it was, the treatment was to put him on steroids. There are risks involved, but they felt as though they should try and the risk was worth it. If they are correct and the body responds well, steroid treatment might mean his body will get well enough to fight off some infections, and he might get healthy enough to possibly endure chemotherapy.

A first glimmer of hope.

The doctor tells me this means my father must stay at the hospital longer. They want to do a blood transfusion while giving him a steroid - I forget the name right now, begins with a "P." He wanted to let me know this because we had plans to take him home (for hospice). The Dr. said he would not authorize hospice until he exhausted all options.

I am relieved, but confused. How was this not a possibility a couple days ago? Again, things change in a blink of an eye, I guess. If my father gets better, they will do another biopsy. The first biopsy took very little tissue. They want more tissue to look at. I think that's a good thing.

Today, as in previous days, I saw my father cry. The only time I have ever seen or remember him doing that is when his own parents passed away (half the world away). As I sit on the precipice of that being a very "real" possibility, I understand.

He spoke of great men. Of men he admired. Of men who did something great with their own lives. I guess in ways, he felt he hadn't achieved greatness yet, and for those reasons he was crying. I listened. I understood. And I understood why and what he meant when he said that me working, going to school, playing music makes him happy and proud.

He spoke of Ghandi. He asked when I was getting married. He felt like he didn't accomplish greatness in his life, and there were things he might not see. And I found the segue I needed. I asked my mother if the Dr. has spoken to them. She said a little bit, so I told the glimmer of good news.

I told him to fight this, to be with us long enough to see me get married. To see his grandchildren (my sister is due in a couple weeks...). To continue achieving accomplishments. I reminded him he HAD accomplished a lot. He fought in a war, he got married, raised two kids, owned a store, taught many people Vovinam (Vietnamese martial arts). These were things important to him. I had to remind him, he did achieve greatness.

I said one of his idols was Ghandi. I asked if Ghandi was strong (physically), as my dad has been lamenting the fact his body is weak. I asked if Ghandi had big muscles. He did not. On a philosophical level, I said, everyone gets weak, even if they are healthy. It is the natural progression of life. That you are born weak, and you grow strong and you learn... eventually, the body will become weak, but the mind and spirit is still strong. I told him he still had his mind and spirit. I asked, "Where you afraid when you were in the Navy fighting a war?" He said, "Of course, but they have weapons and we had weapons, so we had to fight them." "Well, now you have weapons too, but of a different sort. And I need you to fight. And get better, little by little, so you can stay with us long enough to see all those great things and do more great things."

For the first time, I saw a real glimmer of hope in his eyes. He said he would try and fight. He would. He knew the importance. He was in good spirits again.

In contrast to how we saw him last night, today he was awake, alert, breathing fine, and seemed to be in good spirits. The good news and 'pep talk' (I guess I can call it that), did some real good.

He told me to go, go and do what I needed to do (i.e. live my life). I guess he doesn't want to hold me back. He doesn't want me to have any regrets.

I won't.

We're in real-time now. I started this rolling blog today to 1) keep people updated, 2) try and remember this process, and 3) get my hopes, frustration, everything out in one local area. It's helpful for me.

It's 10am, I plan on getting things together, hitting up the hospital, heading to the store, and then maybe in to work for an hour or two to organize things, update people, and get away from things a bit. Depends how the hospital visit goes, of course. I have a gig tonight, that I am prepared to do, and do really well. Up until this point, I realized how much music meant to me... but I can't wait for the release that it will bring me tonight.

I'm making my father's condition widely known, now that most family and close friends know.

I stopped into work for a couple hours today - the first time since Monday. I was met with a lot of support and well wishes. It is good to know that people care so much.

Tonight he ate a little dinner and is enjoying some ice cream now. Overall he seems to be in good spirits and is not in pain.

The blood transfusion went well, and the steroid treatment needs a few more days to see if anything conclusive happens.

Sitting at work now, getting through my "to-do" pile, and then most likely going to head to the hospital. Might make a quick trip home first, I think I can make good use of my Flip video camera.

"Are you afraid?" I asked.

"No, I'm not," he answered.

"Then, you are a much stronger man than I am, because I'm afraid."

He looked at me and let out a few laughs while tears rolled down my face.

I don't think you're ever prepared for anything like this, but I'd never thought I'd have to look at a parent and tell them, quite bluntly that they are dying, and whatever wishes they want, I would carry them out.  I knew the day would eventually come... "eventually" doesn't always creep up, but sometimes hits you like a freight train.

It was maybe an hour or so before the above conversation took place, that the doctor, nurses, my aunt, Jess, and I were sitting around hearing from the doctors that the illness and diseases in my father as a result of the cancer could not be stopped.  The cancer is affecting his body's  ability to combat the illnesses, the multiple illnesses affecting his body.

I had to tell him what was happening.  This is not necessarily the cancer, but the cancer was hindering the body by weakening the immune system.  The body is more susceptible to illness, and not able to fight off these illnesses.  He understood.  He, like my mother and I, wanted him home.

He decided, no more blood tests, biopsies, MRI's, CAT scans -- it's time to prepare to go home under hospice care.

Saturday was a long day.  There were stories.  Some with tears, others with laughter.

I'm eagerly awaiting more stories... both those with laughter AND with tears.

*6/14/09 (ETA):
"Are you still working out?" he asked. (My father used to wake up every morning, around 5am to start working out.  After his stroke, as he was recovering, he eventually got to the point where he and my mother woke up at 6am to work out together and take hour-long walks around the neighborhood.)

"Yes, though I haven't been in a while," I responded. "Why?"

He begins to make a guitar-playing/flexing motion with his arm and looked at me, "Because you'd look really good while playing the guitar!"

This morning I told my mom to make sure the doctor knew of my father's wishes.  I would stop in later to speak with the nurses and doctor.

When I stopped in my father was sleeping - other than somewhat labored breathing, he seemed peaceful, so I told her to leave him be.

I spoke to the nurses and asked for the doctor - I wanted to make sure the message was clear: no more tests, and let him go home (to hospice care).

Meanwhile, my father would sleep for a bit, wake up, and continue that cycle.  He told me to make sure to get things rolling because he wanted to go home.  I asked him if he was in pain at all, and he said he wasn't.

When I finally spoke to the doctor, I asked if my mother had already spoken to him, which she did.  He again explained everything, and I asked when I would be able to meet with a representative from VNACare (who will be helping with the hospice).  I thanked him for all he did, and said I understand the difficult job he has - it is not we were the only family he had ever had to deliver bad news to. 

He asked how my father and mother were doing, and I said surprisingly well - he mentioned that Asians (i.e. Eastern Cultures) seem to take to issues of death better - with some sort of "accepting their fate", rather than Western Cultures.  I guess that leaves me some where in between... I accept this situation logically, but emotionally, it is draining.  I can't believe that tomorrow will be exactly one week since the real bad news dropped.  It seems like it's been much longer.

Tomorrow, we will meet with a rep from VNACare to arrange for hospice.  If the equipment can be delivered, he'll be home Monday night, if not, it will be Tuesday.

I can't wait for him to be home.

It's been exactly a week since I heard the news we were dealing with stage four cancer. As I look at the clock, I realize, it was right around this time as well.

This morning, I went out to the hospital, and was there may all of 15 minutes. The case manager told me that things were moving along to get my father home under hospice care. The doctor is doing the necessary paperwork, and our hospice nurse is ordering the equipment. Someone would have to be home between the hours of 11a and 2p to receive the equipment.

So that is where I am -- waiting. A part of me finds the humor in that it is like waiting all day for the cable company... and you have this fear of going anywhere or doing anything.

Just. In. Case. They. Show. Up.

We were already prepared for this possibility last week, so room had been cleared already (so thankful for that).

The case manager said she ordered an ambulance for 2p. Just a few hours from now, he'll be loading in and headed home. The last week has felt like months, so I'm sure the next few hours will feel like days...

==

My dad made me laugh this morning:

"Where is your wife?" he asked.

"What? She's not my wife! She's my girlfriend." I responded, almost in a elementary, "What? She's not my girlfriend, she's just a girl... who's a friend!" sort of way. It made me laugh.

"He just thinks highly of her, and would like her to be his daughter-in-law," my mom said. "She's probably working."

"Yeah," I said, "she's at work."

==

Last night, for the first time in a week, I cried the type of cry that meant I-am-not-ready-for-this. Surely we have shared tears in the last week, but last night was the first time.

I told Jess that when he had his stroke, I was afraid. I promised I'd try to get to know him better when he got better, and I feel like I didn't accomplish that. Now that time is short, I'm regretting that I didn't take that time. We sometimes take "time" for granted.

I'm happy he's coming home, but in ways, I feel lost. The best analogy I could come up with last night was:

I feel like a sailboat out in the sea. My direction has been set for many years, but now, soon, the wind which blows my sails will go away. I won't be able to turn back, and I'll need to find a way to move forward.

1:39 PM: The equipment is being brought in and assembled...

4:15 PM: He's home and settling in. He was very vocal when I saw him on the ambulance - I think the EMTs were concerned, but he was actually just very happy to be home. "Thank You" he kept saying when they transferred him to his bed at home (from the stretcher).

The hospice nurse should be showing up in an hour or so.

===

Hospice seems to be the right decision. I spent some time picking up a lot of prescriptions, with more being dropped off and picked up tomorrow. Jess and I went to pick up groceries. Family is flying/driving in. I'm meeting people I either have never met before, or haven't seen in a long time... very weird.

There's comfort in knowing, that he is just next door.

I am officially an uncle as of 4:30a this morning... other details to come...?

Tryin' to make today a 'normal' day as much as possible. Going to drop off/pick-up prescriptions for my father, head to work, and try to go about a 'normal' day. Lots of people will be coming by and through the next few days... I could probably use a break from all of this sudden chaos.

===

My cell phone rings while I'm sitting at work. I look and it is the house number. I answer immediately, and my mother tells me that the hospice nurse said his blood pressure is low, and his time may be soon. I wrap things up quickly and give away tickets I had for a concert -- I was planning to get away for a few hours. I don't remember seeing this many people in my house... ever! Maybe when I was much younger, and there was actually family around, and we still celebrated birthdays with cake, cardboard hats, and noisemakers...

Some where along the afternoon, I asked Jess to call the local funeral home and try and expedite a meeting -- I was planning to do it tomorrow, but sometimes you need to act quickly. So far, this has actually been one of the hardest things to do, yet, on the other side of the meeting, I felt "good" that I had accomplished something. I really couldn't have done it without Jess' help, so I'm thanking her on this public forum!

I don't remember when they all came, but throughout various hours of the day, his brothers made it to MA. He seemed to perk up when he saw them. The neighbors must be wondering where this "Asian Invasion" came from, but those with some sense must have an idea... Medical supply truck on Monday afternoon, ambulance that evening, explosion of Asians on Tuesday... including...

A van-ful of monks. It was neat to see. I have never been extremely religious myself, and though my parents were raised Buddhist, I think when they came over here, the lack of places to practice made it so that they to, weren't extremely religious. Not to say I wasn't exposed, and my parents instilled in me, the thought that, you can do good and be good, without going to church or temple or anything else. That, if you understand the teachings of any religion, that you may instill those lessons in yourself if you are able. Would it matter if you attended church/temple every week, but lived a sinful life anyway? Throughout their lives, my parents were philosophical like that, and if you know me... it's come through every bit. Open mind, open body, open spirit.

Woke up this morning to the sound of monks chanting/singing in our living room. Like many Buddhist households, there is a statue of Buddha prominently displayed. This is where they were. What a wake up call. I'm not sure what it all means, but I know it's a beautiful display (for me to behold).

This morning I had to drive up to Logan Airport to pick up a relative. It was such a long ride because of traffic (how is there traffic at 10:30am on a Tuesday...?). I was picking up an older cousin of mine. Back in the day, when I was just a baby and young boy, he lived with my parents. He told me a lot of stories on the hour-ride home. I'll always remember him as being "the cool" guy with the small black coupe. He bought it new in the early 90's... and just sold it a few years ago when the transmission blew. Crazy. Of course, the "cool guy" is not rockin' glasses and speaks highly of his 10 year old daughter. Times. They change.

There were so many cars and people at the house today. It was overwhelming at times. I'm keeping my room my "hideaway" -- a place I can go to do homework, work, get away for a bit, try to relax, etc. They all keep asking if I'm playing my show tomorrow. I can only take things day-by-day.

Somewhere during the day, one of my father's brothers started mowing the lawn... it was a little funny to see one person mowing the lawn and 5 others looking on. You know one of them was probably saying how to do it better! They mowed the backyard, and the sides of the house. I mowed the front. Things look a lot better now that you don't need to traverse through the grass to get anywhere!

I'm still receiving a lot of calls, texts, IMs, and emails daily. I appreciate each and every single one, and apologize if I don't return them right away, or at all. Do know, I am thankful to have such a great network of supports.

As the day winds down, I often forget what day it is... Time is odd. It seems like it speeds up and slows down -- all at the same time.

*ding dong* *ding dong*

I sprung out of bed faster than I thought I could at such an early hour. We had bought a remote doorbell so my dad could just press the button and we'd be alerted.

*ding dong* *ding dong*

It was nothing major, but did give me quite a scare. But now that I realize it, if he can push a button, then hey, that's the bright side of things, right?

I tried to go back to sleep. Not soon after there was a knock on my door. I thought I was dreaming... a few moments later, *knock knock* followed by my mother asking for me. Again, I don't think I've gotten out of bed so fast. She needed help moving my father. We did that and I tried to go back to sleep.

Again, I woke up just a couple hours later to help again.

The last I remember, it was some time around 5am, I could be mistaken... but I know I didn't sleep for more than 2-3hours at a time. I was tuckered last night. Looking at the clock now, it's around 2pm, and the hospice nurse just left. Feels like I've been up and through an entire day already...

I managed to log into work remotely and take care of a few things, and did some homework for school. It's amazing how draining having these many relatives and the entire situation really is.

As I hear the rain fall outside, it is in contrast to the couple sunny days we just had -- I hope it's not some sort of sign... until the next batch of updates...

===

* People have been asking and wondering... photos of my sister's baby up top now!

===

For the first time since this ordeal started, I can honestly say today I was completely frustrated and wanted to punch a wall. With 4 people around him (my mother, 2 of his brothers, and myself) we couldn't understand what he was saying... his frustration was mounting as he was unable to communicate clearly what he wanted. Everyone was misinterpreting and he was getting more frustrated. Then I started getting frustrated. First because we couldn't understand. Then I felt helpless because we couldn't understand. Then I got angry. For myself, and for my father. It's weird to be angry and sad all at the same time.

Suddenly, I had an idea... I ran downstairs to the basement to find my old white-board from school, but realized it'd be easier to grab a piece of paper and a marker. I quickly drew out little pictures for "food", "bathroom", "medicine", and a sad face for pain. I ran back in the room with my paper, put it in front of my dad's face.

"Can you see this?" I asked. A slight nod. "Okay. Do you want food." I wait. "Food?" Nothing. "Bathroom?" I wait. "Bathroom?" He nods. No wonder he was frustrated. I can only imagine what it is like to try and communicate something and not be understood. In a blink of an eye, I vow to not get frustrated with anyone who ever has trouble communicating what it is they want, because I can understand the feelings that are a result.

As soon as Jess gets home from work, we go to CVS (seems like I've spent a lot of time there lately), to buy some things, including a small piece of posterboard, on which I draw various pictorial symbols for food, medication, bathroom, etc. I also write the words "Yes" and "No", as well as a "Pain Scale." Some days, it's easy to understand him or decipher what my dad is trying to say. Today, we had lots of trouble communicating, and frustration was mounting on both sides. My father always taught me, that whenever there is a problem, we must find a solution. I'm just glad I did it "on my feet."

The rest of the evening was a little less eventful. I even managed to go out and play a couple games of bowling with my cousins -- it's nice, since we haven't seen or hung out with each other in y.e.a.r.s. I still wrestle with the idea that it is okay to go out and enjoy myself, and leave my troubles behind for just a few hours.

As soon as I got home, I poked my head in my parents room. Both of them were asleep, which is where I'll be headed soon... but if early this morning was any indicator of things to come, I'll be resting with one eye up...

My father passed away this morning.

I love you, Dad. I will miss you greatly.

I still can't look at this page without being filled with great emotion... and even trying to update now, it is difficult...

I never did get to talk to him one last time while he was here, to show him, "Look, I made this little poster of photos so you could point to what you need." He'd like that. He loved finding solutions to problems, no matter how big, no matter how small. The day before his passing was one of the most frustrating for everyone, but in ways, maybe it was also the easiest. I imagine that if he had hung around longer it would have been worse.

A month has passed and I realize the story hasn't ended and there is more to tell. It seemed like an appropriate time to update again. Mondays have held some sort of significance the last month.

Thinking back - and it seems so long ago, yet it wasn't, things moved pretty quickly. My father passed on a Friday... 3 days later, Monday, June 22nd, the day after Father's Day, was his funeral. I am grateful and thankful for everyone who was able to attend, and those who didn't but sent their sympathies. I had quite literally sent out the information Sunday afternoon. I figured not very many people would show; but a lot did.

The funeral in itself was an experience for me, never having seen one, nevermind being in a Buddhist funeral. There was chanting and rituals. Some of which I understood, a lot of which I numbly played my role. I imagine though, no matter how familiar you are with the process (for example, I have a better understanding of a Christian funeral), if it's this close to home, it doesn't really matter and you're mind is cloudy either way.

I remember thanking people and saying, "Thank you for coming... and don't worry if you don't get everything that's going on. I'll be honest, I don't either!" It was a good way to break the ice...

Following the funeral, we had the procession to the crematorium. Again, a lot more people came along than I expected. Another short ritual was performed before we said our last good-byes.

A week later, on Monday, June 29th, my mother and I picked up my father's urn and transported them directly to temple.

My mother and I have been attending, as with Buddhist tradition, temple every Sunday to pray for my father and do other rituals. We've never been religious, but it was my father's wish to have a traditional ceremony and all that comes along with it, so we are both learning. In truth, it's relaxing and comforting, I just wish I understood what was going on more... I need to find an English speaking temple or something. The lack of Vietnamese Buddhist Temples that perform services (or have resources) in English is actually one of the biggest reasons that form of Buddhism is slowly phasing out, but I digress.

One month later and some days are better than others. There is still a lot of work to be done, and getting used to everything. One month later and I am still writing here about him, and I will continue to do so. Because the stories will surface, pictures will be scanned. And, I have been told... the grief will eventually subside, and all the good memories will come through. This will be a good place for memories.

==

I should say, though it's just a coincidence... the days my father was in the hospital, it rained a lot. The day he was to come home from for hospice, the sun was shining, and continued through the week until, I think Thursday... When he passed Friday, there was some rain, but the sun broke through. The day of his funeral was rain. The day we picked up his urn and delivered it to temple -- sunny. I like to think, that rain was representative of some sad stuff, and the sun of good stuff. He was happy to be coming home... and it was sad when he died, but the day turned out sunny, because he was going to go to a better place. It rained on the funeral, as everyone came together to remember and help share the burden of grief and be sad... but when his urn was being delivered to temple, it was happy times again - he could be free from the burdens of this lifetime and enjoy the eternal peace of the next.

==

Also just reminded myself of what one of the monks sermon (do monks give sermons??), to the congregation. She spoke about my father. How the monks had visited every day starting the second day he was at home under hospice. She said, that on Thursday, instead of the normal rituals they do, they did one that was twice as long, and it was the day before his passing. I feel in ways, that he was comforted. He was happy. He saw all his brothers, his family. We were all there. He saw pictures of his granddaughter. "Maybe," I thought to myself, "he was ready. He was prepared for this outcome while still in the hospital. Perhaps after realizing he was at a point where things would get even more difficult for everyone, rather than easier, he decided he would wait for us on the other side and watch over us..."

I heard this song on the radio the other day, and it really struck me. I didn't get around to posting until today.

I love and miss you, Dad.

Luther Vandross - Dance With My Father



Back when I was a child
Before life removed all the innocence
My father would lift me high
And dance with my mother and me and then

Spin me around till I fell asleep
Then up the stairs he would carry me
And I knew for sure I was loved

If I could get another chance
Another walk, another dance with him
I'd play a song that would never, ever end
How I'd love, love, love to dance with my father again

Ooh, ooh

When I and my mother would disagree
To get my way I would run from her to him
He'd make me laugh just to comfort me, yeah, yeah
Then finally make me do just what my mama said

Later that night when I was asleep
He left a dollar under my sheet
Never dreamed that he
Would be gone from me

If I could steal one final glance
One final step, one final dance with him
I'd play a song that would never, ever end
'Cause I'd love, love, love to dance with my father again

Sometimes I'd listen outside her door
And I'd hear her, mama cryin' for him
I pray for her even more than me
I pray for her even more than me

I know I'm prayin' for much too much
But could You send back the only man she loved
I know You don't do it usually
But Lord, she's dyin' to dance with my father again
Every night I fall asleep
And this is all I ever dream

Dear Dad,

Mom, Jess, and I went down to Philadelphia over the weekend to visit Lynh, Phil, and their baby, Amelia. Remember, she was born just days before you left?

Mom cried when she saw Amelia, saying that she had your hair, dark skin like yours. My heart broke because I realized you'd never see my kids. I'd never be able to ask you for advice on raising them. You wouldn't see them grow up, passing milestones. And then I got selfish and realized you wouldn't witness some of MY milestones. Graduating from grad school, getting married, having kids.

I miss you and think about you every day.

Dear Dad,

Dear Dad,

Dear Dad,

The last time I wrote, it was the day after my birthday. Do you know who's birthday it is today?

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi



You spoke of him a lot while you were in the hospital - days before we knew you were coming home for hospice. Admittedly, I did not know a lot about him, but you seemed to respect him for what he was able to do in his lifetime. And what he was able to achieve... all while maintaining simple ideals and being just one man. You would lament the fact that you didn't do anything as great.

I beg to differ.

If you could have seen, the people who showed to pay their last respects to you. The stories, the laughter, the tears. I want to let you know that, "Yes, you did make a great impact." You might not have lead a national independence movement, but you lived, in the eyes of many who knew and admire you, an extraordinary life.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

You would have been 63 today.

I know as we got older, birthday celebrations weren't as extravagant. I also know we never really celebrated yours. I guess as years pass, we find less reason to celebrate... the irony is, now that you're not here, I would love to celebrate your 63 years, and beyond.

What's happened since last month?

Well, Jeff and Rowena got married. You must remember Jeff, I'm not sure if you knew Rowena. It was a good wedding, but I think you'll be most interested to hear that we went shooting before-hand. Now I know first-hand what it is like to hold and fire a gun. I know you've talked about it, and I know you had the experience of shooting, though under entirely different circumstances. It would have been fun anyway, to chat about it.

The wedding was real nice... I do admit I was selfish... thinking, you'd never be able to watch me get married...

I keep trucking along, doing what I can to stay afloat while doing all that I do. Sometimes it's difficult. I try to help out around the house when I can too. I found the keys to all your tool boxes (I use your tools a lot these days, actually...), but I found that they're filled with all the stuff you used at work. I wish you were here to tell me what all these things were for...

We still think about you everyday. I want to take you out to dinner. I want to tell you and try to prove to you that you're wrong, I'm right, and my way is better! Only to come back to you and ask for your help. I want your advice, even though I'll just ignore it... only to later think, "I should have listened."

Well, that's it for now. Happy birthday. I miss you.

Dad, our sadness knows no end;
We can’t believe you’re gone;
We’re grieving for you every day;
It’s hard to carry on.

You were always there to support and care,
When we needed a true friend,
How we’ll ever do without our dad,
We cannot comprehend.

You were our teacher and our guide,
Our dad, so good and strong;
Your example will sustain us now,
And last our whole lives long.

We’re trying to communicate;
We hope that you can hear;
Expressing what we feel for you,
Helps us feel you’re near.

Our memories of the times we had
Help the pain to go away.
But Dad, our lives won’t be the same;
We’ll miss you every day.

A part of us went with you;
You left a gap too big to fill;
You’re our father and our hero;
We love you and we always will.

by Joanna Fuchs

Happy New Year, Dad!

I played a really good gig last night, I think you'd be proud. There were only two people in the audience I knew (Jess and the person who 'hired' me). The rest just showed up to see me, I guess based on what they read in the brochure... It was a pretty good feeling.

Afterwards, a lot of people came up to see me and tell me how much they enjoyed what I did and to keep doing it. I really think I could turn this hobby into more... maybe 2010's the year to do it?

Happy Anniversary.

Mom's away for the month, but she reminded me that your anniversary was this month... and Tet is coming too, in just two days.

I need to remember to come back and upload a picture. It's one of my favorites - you two look so youthful and happy... In the year following your stroke, and the last days you had together, though you were all much older, you still looked happy, despite the struggles.

I hope that I may, as the John Coltrane album is named find "A Love Supreme."

Miss you.

Chuc Mung Nam Moi.

Happy Vietnamese New Year...

The house is empty. Quiet. For years while at college I didn't celebrate Tet. But you and mom would send me 'banh chung.' When I was younger we'd go to Boston, or Dorchester, or Worcester -- wherever there was something going on.

Today, just a quiet house. Mom is still away, so I'm left to do any small preparations. Some fruit on the alter, some flowers, and several sticks of incense.

I watch the incense burn down... time moves but one way, and days like these are reminders... we can't turn back... and eventually the light burns out. I wish yours had burned longer...

I'll be registering for my last semester as an MBA Graduate Student.  I cashed in the rest of the bonds you had bought for me when I was a kid - I had hoped to keep them longer, but I think you would have supported me in my decision.  If I get into all my classes and pass, I'll have my Masters degree in July.  Assumption only holds one graduation ceremony, so I won't walk until 2011.  I was unsure if I wanted to wait over a year to walk... but I might walk in your memory, because I know you'd be proud of my accomplishments.

Gone, but not forgotten.  R.I.P. Dad, I love and miss you.

Happy Father's Day.