Dad,

Here we are, Dad. Three years later. I used to dream about this day. The day that I could hug you without the wires and cords hanging from your body. The day that I could sit on the couch and watch a movie with you. The day that I could pat you on your head and there's hair there. The day that our tears are from happiness instead of sadness. The day that you could be my dad again. Thank you cancer, for giving me my dad back.

When we got the news, I thought that my world was crashing down around me. I thought that I would lose you. For months on end, the progress was limited and it got harder and harder to look at you without bursting out into tears. It was even harder to hear you say, "Everything is going to be OK," because I knew that it wouldn't. You were braver than me, and I wasn't even the one with the disease.

Thank you for your constant smile. Your permanent grin got me through the rough days. I'm sure there were times when smiling was a nearly impossible task, but you continued to flash those pearly whites at me every time I walked into your room. Whether you were in pain, upset or angry, you never let me see you that way.

You didn't deserve this. No one does, but especially you. You were strong for me when I was supposed to be strong for you. This was the hardest time of my life, and you, the sick one, got me through it. Thank you for still being my dad even when you couldn't. Thank you for asking me about my day, when everyone else was asking me about you.

I knew that your positivity and pure joy would give you the strength to kick cancer to the curb. After receiving a bone marrow transplant, months and months of chemo, you were finally OK. After the post year of your transplant, we got the good news and I was finally crying of joy. You're a hero, a fighter and a survivor, but I am most proud to say that you are my dad.

Love,

Your Daughter