Kim Nguyen's Blog

New ideas are exciting, but at the same time, can be scary. There’s a rush of exhilaration to imagine what the ideas could eventually turn into in the future. Although that reality may seem so far away at times.
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When you think an idea is ready, it actually might not be. That’s okay. Ideas take time to grow and take form.

You may have captured the seed of a great idea but it likely may still need time to germinate until it develops to a stage where you can nurture and grow it.​

For over a year, I’ve been talking about starting a podcast to capture conversations about the ups, downs, and lessons in love. The idea spurred from my book of poetry centered around the same theme.

I started to have candid conversations with friends about love and always emerged with a better understanding of the human experience and wisdom on how to grow a better type of love. I felt richer and fuller from our chats and thought perhaps others would too.

This once small idea finally grew from its seed I’m excited to share the launch of the In and Out of Love Podcast!

The In and Out of Love Podcast will take you on a journey to explore the depths of love — the good, the bad, and the ugly — through candid conversations with everyday people about love and relationships.

Some of us may be in love, some of us out of love, and some of us in between. No matter where you are in your love journey, join us for raw, genuine, and heartfelt chats with people around the world to learn how to create a richer love.

I hope you enjoy the stories and candid conversations!

The post Discover Candid Conversations About the Ups and Downs of Love appeared first on Kim T. Nguyen.

When you allow yourself to take on scary things, other doors start to open up for you. Perhaps that’s your reward for getting over the fear of the unknown. A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to read one of my pieces called ‘Just go to Sleep’ on stage, surrounded by a small crowd chattering away.

As I met the other presenters, my nerves started to calm knowing that for most of us, this was our first time sharing our words, in turn sharing a part of ourselves, in front of an audience. I thought to myself, “If they could do this, I could do this.”

So I did. I was the first presenter to read. I took a deep breath and the words rushed through me. Seven and a half minutes went by like a swift breeze. As I looked out at the audience, I felt connected to them through sharing this sacred space and time together. I practiced and practiced memorizing my story so I wouldn’t forget the lines and thankfully I didn’t.

When I spoke the last sentence, “But still, I am one of the lucky ones,” I truly believed it. The audience celebrated with a round of applause as I soaked in the lessons I learned from taking on the scary parts of life. 

Scary won’t be Perfect

The reading wasn’t perfect. I could have taken longer pauses to let the emotions set in. I could have read slower to give emphasis on certain imagery. I could have done a lot of things differently. 

In the end, I needed to lean into the courage it took to get in front of people and share a story. It was my first time and the next one, and the next ones after that, would be better. Seeing my loved ones sitting right in front, supporting my creative endeavors was what got me through the performance. 

Scary is better than Hiding

Throughout a couple of weeks leading up to the event, all I wanted to do was find excuses not to do the thing I knew I needed to do. My body faced fight or flight mode. I wanted to run away from the unknown and fear as far as I could.

When I thought about getting on a stage to speak in front of strangers, my stomach turned with anxiety. I was challenging myself to get uncomfortable and it was too uncomfortable at times. 

Days before the performance, I wanted to type up an email to the organizer saying I couldn’t do it, something came up, I wasn’t ready. Anything to get out of what I said I would do. But I knew I would regret hiding more than showing up. I would regret letting other people down more than letting myself down. If things went wrong, at least I showed up no matter how messy it got. 

Scary Opens up Doors

Doing scary things open up other opportunities to do more scary things. After the performance, I met other creatives who were doing amazing work like organizing unique events, publishing their book, releasing podcasts, etc… The energy from being around like-minded individuals radiated from each of us. 

As the conversation unfolded, small connections and new collaborations formed. I have the opportunity to hold a local writing workshop for the color collective. I have the opportunity to talk to a published author and hear about his journey and learn from him. I have the opportunity to do more of what brings me joy and that’s what doing scary things did for me.

The post 3 Lessons from Taking on the Scary Parts of Life appeared first on Kim T. Nguyen.

I remember when I stood alone in front of three well-established businessmen pitching a business idea as part of business competition for students. The winners would get a sum of money to help fund their business. 

I worked extremely hard to put together a business plan with all the necessary details including the market, the financials, etc… I called the business Via Student and the idea was to create a market to sell student-made products at bookstores, local gift shops, and other places. A portion of the sales would go back to students to help them pay for their education.  

I practiced and practiced my pitch. The day came and my nerves couldn’t be calmed. As I stood in front of these businessmen, I couldn’t help but think what the hell am I doing here? This was not a good idea. I didn’t belong here.

So I rushed through the presentation, spitting out words and numbers as I could feel my voice crack. I took a big sigh of relief when it was over. 

That was uncomfortable. 
That was unfamiliar. 
That was scary. 

I walked out feeling relieved that I did it. At the same time, I walked out feeling I could have done it better. I let my doubts take a hold of me. I let the voice inside telling me I shouldn’t venture out to the world of the unknown take a hold of me.

I had an amazing opportunity to learn and grow from this experience at the moment I was in the experience. I let some of the best knowledge go unrealized by facing the world outside my comfort zone. 

I didn’t win the competition. 

One lesson I did take away was I can do scary things, no matter how hard it may seem. The one challenge I took away was I can do scary things, and I want to do them the best that I can. 

As we get older, we become more set in our ways. We tend to stay in the realm of what is familiar because familiarity doesn’t take us to a place of unknown. Familiarity is safe. We are creatures of habits and it’s hard to break what we’ve taken years to build. 

I’ve had many opportunities since my business pitch to take on scary things in different areas of my life including my career, relationships, and creative practice.

I have another opportunity to do something scary and I am quite nervous about it. I will be reading one of my pieces on stage in front of a live audience at the Utah Arts Festival. I will be part of a Color Collective representing the BIPOC community for the Literary Arts Program.

I’ve never shared my writing on a public stage. I’ve barely shared my writing with my close family and friends. Hundreds of people’s eyes will be on me on center stage. A place I would rather not stand in but know it’s exactly where I need to be at this present moment.

I’ve sheltered my creative soul away from the light it needs to flourish. I’ve protected it from the contrast needed to strengthen its roots. I’ve ignored the impulses to surround myself in a nurturing environment. It’s time to say goodbye to the familiar and do the scary thing better.

When you think about pursuing your passion, what scares you?
What’s one thing you know you want to do but have been scared to? 

I would love to hear!

The post Trust You Can Do Scary Things appeared first on Kim T. Nguyen.

Change is hard but sometimes is necessary to shift the momentum of our direction. We’re creatures of habit. Let’s admit it, we’re not always the smartest creatures. We’ve built unhealthy habits over the years that we know need to change, but prove to be the most difficult ones to shift. Instead, it’s easier to sit back and let life control us versus letting us control our lives. The easiest thing we can do is nothing at all.

As much as we’re creatures of habits, we’re also creatures of growth. We crave knowledge, perspectives, and experiences that challenge the way we see ourselves. We look for ways to expand into our true potential of the best version of ourselves. As easy as it is to do nothing, it’s painful to do nothing as well. As Anais Nin said, “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

When I first started this blog, I loved the idea of sharing my experiences and wisdom gained from living a life focused on reflection, self-growth, and mindfulness. These areas lit up my soul as I learned more about the intricacies of trying to be a good human while understanding what being a good human even meant. 

I find joy in writing and sharing my personal stories to connect and help others heal who may have similar experiences. I love the meaningful conversations that happen after sharing a glimpse of my own narratives which makes me inspired to write even more. I sit in peace while reflecting on the stories held within each of us that have found our voice and place. I wait in anticipation for those stories still waiting to find their way to be heard. 

At the same time, there are so many blogs, websites, podcasts, videos out there that cover similar topics incredibly well. I’m left questioning:

– Am I providing the most value I can? 
– What am I adding to the conversation that they may not necessarily be covering? 
– How do I stand out in all the noise?
– How does what I do matter? 
– How much breadth or depth do I want it to matter? 
– If I impact the lives of a handful of people, is that enough? 

I think all of us have felt this in some aspect of our lives whether it’s trying to build a blog, pursuing our creative endeavors, advancing our careers, etc… We’re all trying to not only find our voice in the sea of so many but finding the tribe of people where our voice really resonates.

We share common experiences of triumph and heartbreak but yet have uncommon reactions and reflections. These differences create an interesting contrast and important lessons to share with one another. Let’s share these narratives that are worthy of being heard. I’m committed to helping others find their voice to nourish the soulful, passionate, and creative soul within in whatever form or fashion that looks like.

So good changes are coming soon to build better ways to share and connect with each other. I look forward to this next new chapter of nourishing our soulful journey together.

I would love to hear from you! 

What’s one word to describe how you’re feeling right now?
What’s one sentence from a story you’ve been waiting to tell?
What’s one paragraph on why you’ve wanted to tell it?

The post Why Change is Hard appeared first on Kim T. Nguyen.

Our desires are infinite. We are human and with that comes the amazing ability to imagine what our future would look like. Many of us daydream about a better version of ourselves and our lives. The universe seems full of possibilities while at the same time, the universe also can test our patience in delivering our desires. We get frustrated, angry, and disappointed when dreams we’ve asked for and wanted for so long aren’t manifesting quickly enough. Maybe our dreams are looking down from up above, watching, and waiting for us to be ready to embrace the fullness of them. 

I believe everything we’ve asked for is delivered to us in bite-size pieces in our lives. Pieces big enough for us to handle, and small enough to truly savor. Sometimes, we think we can handle more of our desires unfolding at once but we miss out on the thoughtful timing of the deliciousness of happiness sprinkled throughout our lives instead of one big hooray. 

Each destination throughout our journey whether it’s a small stop or a big milestone is a certain distance away from where we currently are. We may not know how far away, but we can trust if we continue to move towards our desires, which brings a sense of satisfaction and joy within itself, that we will get to delight in both the journey and the destination. 

As much as we have to be ready for a dream, the dream also has to be ready for us. Each desire has a gestation period to prepare itself to be delivered to us. We don’t want a dream to come too soon before it’s formed to its full potential. It’s like the birth of a baby where nine months is the needed time to form a healthy baby with all ten fingers and toes. We don’t rush the process because rushing can be risky in ways we may not fully understand. Instead, we want to enjoy the change happening within to make sure not only is the manifestation ready but we are ready as well.

So how do you become ready for something you’ve wanted for so long?

1. You embrace the areas in life that call to you. You let your heart take the lead. You take inspired actions that move you in the direction of your dreams. Some of the ideas or impulses that come to you may not make sense right away, but trust they will. I think of these impulses as daydreams or mini visions in which a future version of you is leaving crumbs for you to follow. 

As you follow these crumbs, you’ll start to feel a strong resonance with the path you’ve taken. You’ll start to feel more connected and energized with your purpose. As you look back along the way, you start to gain a greater sense of appreciation for all the incredible progress you’ve made. 

2. You focus on the feelings along the way. Sometimes you get caught up in the actual physical manifestations of a dream. You want to hear it, feel it, smell it, taste it, and touch it. You forget the reason why we want the manifestation in the first place is because of how we think having it will make us feel. So if it’s about the feelings anyway, let’s relish in the anticipation, excitement, laughter, bliss, and whatever other emotions spur up on our journey. 

It’s like when you plan a vacation and the days leading up to it are almost as exciting as the actual days of the vacation themselves. You have a few extra days to savor beforehand when you start to imagine the delight in the upcoming experience. The buildup and suspense add intensity to the moments that unfold during your experience.

3. You think about what you want in general terms. We want things in our life because we believe getting those things will bring us more happiness or satisfaction. There’s a time and place to get into the details of your desires but being too rigid in what you want can limit you to open up to what’s in front of you at the moment. What may lie ahead is what you needed in your life instead of what you wanted. 

Life doesn’t come with a map but you do have your internal compass to guide you in the general direction of where you want to go. Look at your compass just enough to keep you honest. The detours along the way are what make a journey into an adventure full of color and not just a black and white line straight to your destination. When you understand and accept life is unpredictable, you start to appreciate the challenges and triumphs that much more. You start to become ready for all of the amazing experiences knocking at your door.

The post Being Ready for Your Desires appeared first on Kim T. Nguyen.

Many of us go through our lives wondering if we are where we are supposed to be at this moment in time. Whether it’s a certain accomplishment you were supposed to achieve at this point in your life. Or maybe it’s a specific dollar amount you were supposed to have in your bank account currently. Or perhaps one, two, or twenty bucket list items you were supposed to cross off your list by now.

We are rarely content with where we are which can lead to missing out on what’s in front of us at this present moment. We miss the opportunity to truly embrace our accomplishments, experiences, and memories. Our focus is so narrowed on the future that the present hardly gets its fair share of your attention. 

Goals are healthy to have. They are a good mechanism to point us in the right direction of where we want to go. When goals become a rigid feedback loop is when they become not so healthy, creating a cycle where you place blame on yourself if you don’t meet your own expectations. You cut yourself down so far that before you know it, you’ve dug a hole with all of your doubts. And the hole gets deeper with each shovelful until you realize how far you’ve got to climb out now. 

We are in a constant race where we know there’s no finish line, yet we keep running as fast as we can while letting the beautiful scenes of life pass us by. Sometimes we have to be reminded it’s not a race against others to see who is the fastest. It’s a race against yourself to savor how much you’ve grown.

There are times you can’t see all of the growth that is happening underneath your surface but you can trust that it’s there. You may not see all our goals manifesting but you can trust that they will unfold in perfect timing when you’re ready to receive and ready to allow. 

We think we need to keep up with everyone else to be happy but when we look around, not many of us are actually enjoying the journey. To most, the reward is greater than the process but in the long run, the process is what can bring us the most joy and satisfaction.

We are so heads down in getting from point a to point b that we sometimes forget to look up to see how far we’ve all come. We forget to look around and smile at all we have around us. We forget to look forward, but not too far in the future, and appreciate the runway ahead of us.

So this is a gentle reminder to yourself, you are exactly where you are supposed to be. You are the person you are supposed to be at this moment in time. You are more than just what you’ve done, but who you’ve become. You are an extension of lives you’ve influenced, you’ve moved, and you’ve inspired in ways that may not be revealed to you but trust your light shines far.

The post You are Exactly Where You’re Supposed to Be appeared first on Kim T. Nguyen.

Life is full of decisions and sometimes all we wish for is a sign from the universe on which direction to take or even just what to embrace in the present moment. We desire to find the small crumbs to follow that will lead us to the desired outcome which usually takes the form of happiness, joy, and satisfaction.

The universe is winking at us in subtle ways but when our minds are in constant motion, we aren’t able to see the signs. The daily chatter of our thoughts consumes the space needed to clearly receive the impulses being given our way.

When we quiet our mind whether, through meditation, a calming walk, or even listening to the sound of mother nature, we allow ourselves to be open to receiving the message the universe is trying to deliver. These messages usually take the form of thoughts or impulses for you to:

Do something Say somethingShare somethingCreate somethingGo somewhereReach out to someone

They may be little ideas that come into our minds out of nowhere or big ideas that have been buried and now are ready for you.

I open myself to receiving all signs no matter how big or small. I wanted to share some recent personal examples of impulses I’ve followed and the wonderful connections and outcomes that unfolded.

Share something – I’m a writer and sometimes the hardest part of writing is sharing what I’ve written. It’s like opening a window to peek into corners of your soul, at least it is for me. This could be another post, but in the meantime, I had an impulse to share my poetry book In and Out of Love with a new friend. We started to connect over the poems. He shared some thoughtful words of how beautiful they were and how he resonated with many of the poems. I was reminded of how much these poems mean to me, why I had written them, and the gift I have that I sometimes don’t fully embrace.Do something – I crave strengthening close relationships. I know I can do better in terms of actively reaching out and creating these opportunities to do so. I haven’t seen my family for a while as each of us has been quite busy, but I missed them. I had a thought to reach out to see who was free for Memorial day to have a bbq in the park. So I messaged my siblings and all of them were free and as excited to get together as I was. We had an amazing time together in the park enjoying the sun, food, and each other. Say something – I’ve been an active part of a hiking meetup that has opened doors to new connections and friendships. I wanted to share this gratitude with the organizers of the group so I did. I let them know how thankful I was for them getting us all together and they appreciated the kind words. Likely, not a lot of people have expressed their appreciation to them for the time and effort they put in to organizing all of the hikes.

How is the universe winking at you? How can you be more open to listening to these thoughts and impulses? I would love to hear!

The post How to Open Yourself Up to Signs from the Universe appeared first on Kim T. Nguyen.

She hangs over my shoulder every day, casting doubts if I’ll ever fulfill my true potential and discover my one great purpose in life. Perhaps I don’t have one great purpose at all but many small but equally as meaningful ones. But she covers her ears, refusing to hear my reasoning.

She wants me to return to safety and not step outside too far where I could tumble and fall down a path full of thorns waiting to pierce me. I know I will fall countless times and every time I do, she buries her weight, standing on my chest to keep me from getting back up.

She wants to protect me from the hurt and disappointment I’ve experienced in the past. I know letting go of the burden of the past is what my future begs of me but she ferociously begs to differ.

She teases me by letting me step outside my comfort zone but not beyond the edge where true change and joy happens. I know outside the familiar comforts of my mind is where the magic of my soul transpires, but she pulls me back by the hair.

She lives in a parallel universe where fear is her fire. I know fear equals unmet uncertainty. Certainty only comes with leaning into the unknown instead of running away from it, but she stirs the ashes reigniting the flames.

Her name is Nancy. She’s seemingly smart, refined, and wears dark-red glasses that define her so-called wisdom. Her long, jet hair slicked back into a classy high ponytail. A delicate line of freckles speckled across her nose and dance along her cheeks.

Her words are critical, sharp, and hard to forget, leaving me wounded. She waits in the corner, lingering in time for the right moment to cast feelings of doubt and unworthiness.

She’s absolutely perfect from the outside. When all eyes land on her, she holds a steady and confident gaze. Her presence takes up space and grace. She’s imperfectly messy on the inside. She’ll do everything in her power to hide this secret. The truth of her heart is shackled in a box of lies.

She will never go away. She is as constant as the sun rising to the daylight and the moon giving way to the night. She is the enemy in my mind which I constantly battle to remind myself I am enough.

Nancy and I have been through hell and back together. She tries to guide us through a journey that is easier and protect us from a world that is hard. She held what felt like a safe space I could turn to but now I realize, the space she created was meant only for her. She’s unapologetically selfish.

I was so fragile back then. Little by little, I learned how to fight the opinions of her that I knew couldn’t hold true. I held my own truth and leaned into my guidance. I learned how to soften her voice that I knew she loudly spoke because of fear. I spoke my own voice and leaned into my experience. I learned how to lessen her presence that I knew she invaded for lack of compassion. I took on more space and leaned into my soul.

I know Nancy will always be there but she can no longer take the lead. She can only be my shadow, a reminder of the darkness that follows. A darkness that will never be quite real. 

The post appeared first on Kim T. Nguyen.

What would a new version of you look like? Not a completely new version but one who expands in all the ways you desire to exude all the characteristics in full form.

One who is bolder and takes more risks.
One who is wiser and shares their wisdom. 
One who is more confident and shows up stronger. 
One who is more vulnerable and strengthens their connections.
One who is more authentic and lives with a more mindful presence. 

The truth is, change is difficult. Change takes leaving the familiar and venturing off into the unknown. It’s leaving the comfort of what you’ve known before to experience the possibility of growth. A rich and abundant life is about discovering how far you can grow into the potential the universe has instilled in you.

You can either take small steps towards becoming a new version of yourself or one giant leap. If taking one giant leap sounds scary it’s because it is.

Real transformation happens when you take any step towards a new direction and for most of us, these are small steps towards building the momentum needed to take another and then another. These smaller steps lessen anxiety as you’re slowly introducing contrast into your life while learning how to integrate the changes.

A small step could look like sharing an idea you’ve tucked away to breathe life back into it.
A small step could look like having deeper conversations by asking deeper questions.
A small step could look like speaking up first in whatever form this looks like to you.
A small step could look like sharing a piece of your story that not many have heard.
A small step could look like flowing into what brings you true joy and basking in it. 

You are here to be the best version of yourself. Don’t let others — or yourself — hold you back. You are meant to live as a beautiful and magnificent being experiencing life to the highest degree imaginable.  

The post A New Version of You appeared first on Kim T. Nguyen.

I’ve been blessed in my life where death didn’t come knocking on my family’s door until three years ago when my dad passed away from lung cancer. I lived thirty-seven years without having to face the reality of the finality of life and what that final breath felt like. Cold. Lingering. Ultimate.

Even during the pandemic, my family was lucky to escape anyone passing away from the disease or any serious medical conditions. Just the opposite, my family witnessed the miracle of life as my brother and his partner welcomed a new baby girl into the family. Even so, my heart goes out to all those who’ve lost someone during these trying times.

When someone passes away, the rare opportunity also fades away to speak the words you wished you would have spoken. The questions you’ve always wanted to ask to linger without closure. The proud moments you’ve wanted to share but didn’t. Their stories you’ve craved to hear now buried deep within their souls never to be heard.

I longed to know my dad more than I did. I longed for that relationship where we could talk about anything and everything ever since he abandoned our family when I was fifteen when my parents divorced. I experienced hurt, disappointment, and anger for years trying to find solace for the pain someone else caused me. 

We each have a story to share and I did not get to know my dad’s. I wish I could turn back time and have a few moments before he took his last breath to understand why. Why he could not be the dad I wanted in my life? Why could he leave his family so easily? Why he never really said I love you?

Many times in life, we are left with more questions than answers. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is accept the unknown. When we accept, we let go. We are no longer strong reactors to someone else’s decision which we had no control over.

As I started to re-work writing my memoir, my dad wasn’t initially a part of the story. I wonder if I purposely blocked him out of my mind because he purposely blocked me out of his life. When I started to explore themes for the memoir, my last memories of my dad became front and center. I remembered a letter I wrote to him that I never shared with him but I wish I had. 

I share it here today to connect with those who have lost someone they’ve loved recently. As a reminder to savor the time we have with one another because life is so unpredictable. Be vulnerable with each other and share our stories because it may be the only chance we get. 

An Unsent Letter

January 15, 2017

Dear Dad,

I’m sorry you’re fighting cancer out to destroy your body, mind, and soul. Every moment here, you’re in a constant battle just to breathe, just to live. In the rare moments of triumph where you seem to be getting better, hesitant smiles fill the room.

Like during the hospital visit when you were strong enough to play Vietnamese chess with your oldest son, jokingly telling him to take it easy on you. Your eyes lit up as you contemplate your next move and then ultimately beat him.

Like during the visit when you were still sharp enough to fill in all the empty boxes of my three-star Sudoku puzzle I could not finish. Each number you confidently wrote out in pen.

Like during the visit when you were vulnerable enough to shed tears of joy as your youngest son stepped into the room. After twenty years of not seeing each other, he came and you cried.

In the past, he refused your once-a-year visits around Christmas time but gladly accepted the gifts of money you sent to him. He held a deep grudge and animosity towards you for abandoning us when we were still young at a time when we needed a father the most after you and mom divorced.

He has always harbored resentment towards you for the man you didn’t become, for the man he wished you did. Even with these lingering feelings, he came to visit you when he found out you developed cancer. 

You confidently stated you would fight cancer and beat it to live many more years. You wanted to just go outside and walk again. You wanted to visit your family back in Vietnam especially to see your mom who was still strong at ninety years old. As weeks went by, the adverse reactions to the cancer treatment worsened, sending you back to the hospital time and time again. 

Your body diminished slowly into a fragile, thin shell of bones not meant to hold any man. Your hair escaped the withering case as soon as it could. Your hatred towards hunger rose to a desire you couldn’t satisfy with the loss of your once hearty appetite.

You craved all kinds of Vietnamese food, especially Bun Bo Hue the spicy, flavorful beef noodle soup, but had to settle for the bland hospital chicken noodle soup instead. Soon, it wasn’t an option to eat anything at all when a feeding tube was stuck into your body to pump in the nutrients you could no longer take in yourself.

Your body fell into a state of uncontrollable vomiting, diarrhea, shakiness, and exhaustion. The nurses took care of you like a newborn baby unable to do more than lay eyes onto a new, unfamiliar world. The chilling moments continued when you gave consent to refuse the use of a defibrillator if your heart stopped knowing one shock could crush your delicate bones and cause unnecessary suffering.

The vivid moment when we were told by the doctor your weakened body could ultimately fail with another chemotherapy treatment. So all the treatments stopped. There would be no more medicine to help battle the cancer fighting inside of you.

There was a new fight now, one called time. Suddenly, all of the medical staff wanted to make you feel as “comfortable” as possible for the time remaining. A comfortable place where hope would no longer exist.  

Soon after, you were released from the hospital with the uncomforting thought the doctors could no longer help you. No one could help you. Your sturdy legs which once stood tall at every step now lay too frail to even hold you up. With her own two arms, your wife shouldered your weight to carry you up the stairs into your home.

Gently, she laid you down to let you rest in bed. Your blank gaze across the room catches dullness in the complete emptiness. You would try to sleep but the violent coughing spells flared uncontrollably. Each cough full of harshness, raspiness from within the deepest part of your burning lungs darkened red with hurt. 

You never believed you would get cancer. The almost lifetime of smoking cigarettes every day proved otherwise. The lung cancer progressed to stage four, the incurable type. The cancer grew into multiple tumors in your leg, neck, and other places invading the insides of your body. Killing anything good and breeding everything bad.

As one tumor improved with treatment, the others grew worse. All the cancer treatments could ever do was prolong your life with no certainty for how long. 

Confined to life in a small bed three feet by six feet is not how you imagined life would unfold during your last six months on this earth.

Confined to a life where stepping outside and simply inhaling a big breath of fresh air was no longer an option.

Confined to a life where the memories of beauty existing past your doorstep is better to be forgotten than to be remembered because these are places where you can no longer go. 

I feel guilty for witnessing beauty every day like the sun gracing my skin with warmth or the birds chirping with joy as you struggle to appreciate your next breath. I feel guilty for not constantly being by your side in Utah.

Even if I flew from California every weekend to be next to you, there would be little I could say or do to ease the pain, to provide you peace, or to make you believe everything will be okay. Because it’s not going to be okay. 

One day cancer will win. I hate it. I hate the fact cancer reopened the door once shut for your children to see you and you to be a part of your family again.

I hate the fact cancer twists lives into an emotional torment where pain traverses across bodies.
I hate the fact cancer controls how the story ends and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. I hate the fact cancer happened to you dad, even though throughout our lifetime, you’re barely someone who I know and who barely knows me. 

I’ve always longed for our relationship to be different. A relationship where I imagine conversations, memories, and arguments a dad and daughter should have together about love, life, and everything in between. For the last twenty years of my life, I grew up without a father.

You didn’t know that after you and mom divorced, I had to take on the financial responsibility to help our family survive day in and day out. You didn’t know I had to walk to work in the sun, rain, and snow when I was fifteen and continued to do so for years so I could pay the bills you did not pay. So I could put food on a table where you left it empty. 

You were not there when mom decided to pack up her bags and leave us behind as well. When she couldn’t take everyday life anymore and left for California without letting us know if she would ever come back.

When I was forced to take responsibility to care for my younger brother and myself while struggling to do well in high school. Unlike you, mom eventually realized her mistake after a few months and came back home. 

You were not there when I was the first in our family to graduate from college. When the struggles and sacrifices you made to immigrate to the United States to provide our family a better life started to become a reality.

You were not there when I fell in love for the first time with a wonderful man and eventually married him with dreams of building a future together. I had to decide between you and mom who to invite to the wedding and it was, unfortunately, an easy decision to make. 

You were not there when I struggled with my marriage, when my heart felt completely empty as I cried at nights in the middle of an isolated desert. I couldn’t take the sadness anymore and so like you, I thought divorce would be the best answer.

You were not there when I moved to San Diego to start over living alone, confused, and vulnerable. You were not there to see me transform into the daughter you would have been proud of — a brave, confident, and vibrant woman. The daughter you should have known throughout all of these years.

Through everything, all of your children took the burden of life on their own shoulders. We found direction, meaning, and success without you there.

Because we are smart like you.
Because we are strong like you.
Because we are a part of you.

As our time grows shorter, we will savor the moments together before everything turns not okay. We will be there as much as possible to provide you a sense of peace. Because being present for you at the time of your greatest need is what we’ve always wanted from you but never received. It’s what we’ll give to you because the future will soon be our past.

Despite it all, I love you dad.

– Nhung

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