Fundraising for our dad's burial

My brother, sister, and I are raising funds to help afford our dad's burial.

Our dad was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer in February of this year. He began chemotherapy in February and continued through into June. Throughout the first four months, he juggled many emotions and anxiety but remained positive and hopeful about his journey. I remember vividly one morning we were having coffee on my porch, and he said, "when I beat this, I want to open a Vinyl store." I remember tearing up because I so badly hoped he would beat this.

In June, we discovered that it had become stage four and metastasized throughout his body. I didn't know much about cancer, but hearing "stage four "and "metastasized" crushed me. I remember looking at my dad, and without skipping a beat, he asked, "well, where do we go from here, doctor."

This day was a blur, mostly because I didn't understand what this meant for my dad. I wanted to cry, ask a thousand questions, and hold him and tell him that he would be okay.

We left that day not fully understanding what the last four months of his life would be like or what to expect. We knew he would continue a few rounds of chemo and that he was a good match for immunotherapy. His new treatment plan seemed optimistic, yet we were still confused about what this meant for his quality or longevity. Were we scared to ask how much time my dad had left with us? Absolutely. So we didn't. Mainly because we weren't ready to hear the news that we already assumed we knew.

When our dad was diagnosed in February, I reached out to a friend who had lost her father to lung cancer and asked for her advice. She told me, "spend time with him." Something in me hated that those were the only words she could share but deep down, I knew she was giving me the best advice possible.

I was grateful that I could be there for my dad during the summer months of treatment and to have our Wednesday dinner dates. It was nice to reminisce on my childhood memories and have Oliver spend time with his pop-pop.

In August, our dad had a scary week in the hospital for a collapsed lung. However, he recovered and went home. In September, we became concerned about my dad's condition and finally asked some of the most challenging questions. We were told he had 6-12 months to live.

From there, things declined rapidly. Our dad was admitted for a lung infection on October 11th, and by Sunday, October 16th, he had passed.

Many friends and family have said to us that if there is anything they can do to let them know. Though it is uncomfortable to ask for money, it would mean so much to my siblings and I if you would consider donating to our dad's burial costs.