So several years ago, my, I found out my dad was going to die, and I immediately started writing a letter to him,

but I thought we had, I had time to write it,

thought I had time to ponder on it.

And then we got the news from the doctor

that our miracle territory hopes weren't going to be reality.

That in fact, I, uh, the unthinkable was going to be happening.

And so I started writing a little bit more fervently,

thinking I had another several weeks to work on this.

And then he took a turn for the worst, got the call.

He was literally just losing the ability to speak and be coherent. He was slipping away from life.

And all of a sudden I realized I have to finish this letter right now.

If I don't finish it right now, I might never get to read it to him.

But he started to go downhill so fast, I realized they said, he's gonna need to read it now.

So I rushed home.

And I wanted to finish this letter.

And so I sat down and just started riding from the heart.

I said, just let it out. Don't filter.

Say what you mean, mean what you say.

This may be your only chance.

This might be the last chance.

It was.

It was my last chance.

...