It has been over a year since my father passed away. Time has gone by so quickly. I would like to take an opportunity to share with you my experiences with my father during the last stages of his life. He faced death with courage and was compassionate towards others up to the last moment.

My father was diagnosed with liver cancer in May of 1997. At that time, we were in a state of disbelief, but surprisingly enough, it was my father who had the strength to support us. He was prepared to fight the illness. If you'd ever met him, you'd know that he's the type of person who never gives up. He found the courage and conviction to try to get better, but he was also very realistic. He knew that he might not be cured and he was prepared to accept his fate. In fact, a few days after his diagnosis, he came up with the idea of recording his own farewell for the funeral.

During the next few months, his condition gradually deteriorated as he tried two different experimental chemotherapies. Usually people go through a stage of anger when they realize they have a terminal illness. They often think, "Of all the people in the world, why me?" My father was the exception. Once when I was sitting next to his bed, he said to me, "I've done so much for others during my life. But now that I've returned all that I owe, I should happily accept this illness. If I have any anger and regret, I might end up in the same place in my next life." His comment truly enlightened me. Master Cheng Yen always reminds us to cheerfully accept situations that are handed to us. My father was able to do this by happily accepting even a terminal illness. There wasn't any improvement after a few months of chemotherapy, so in November of 1997, we decided to head back to Taiwan.

The week before we left Chicago for Taiwan, I was driving my father down Lake Shore Drive. It was a beautiful day as we drove down the shore admiring the vastness of Lake Michigan and the grandeur of the Chicago skyline. During our conversation, I asked him if he would miss Chicago. He said no. It was amazing how non-attached he was. If I were in his shoes, I certainly would have been sad to realize that this could possibly be the last time that I would see Chicago. The Buddha teaches us to let go of our attachments to all things. My father's ability to let go was truly inspiring.

The day before we left, my father told me that he had two goals in mind. The first was to see his mother, and the second was to make it to the Heart Lotus Hospice Ward at Tzu Chi hospital. We all realized that his condition posed a risk in traveling, but he believed that he could do it. As we all sat around him in our family room, he told us that he was 99.9% sure that he would not ever make it back here. This was another example of his non-attachment. We lived here for so long, yet he was able to let go and simply be happy with the present.

When we arrived in Taiwan, the first thing my father wanted to do was to see his mother. He has always been a very pious son. He felt that he needed to pay his respects to his mother one last time. Since his condition was quicklydeteriorating, everyone advised him to go directly to Tzu Chi Hospital in Hualien. There he received excellent physical and emotional support from the staff at the Heart Lotus Hospice Ward. My grandmother finally came down to see him. During the months of chemotherapy, my father lost nearly fifty pounds. When my grandmother saw him, she started to cry. No one knew what to do, but it was my father who had the strength to comfort her. Instead of needing other people's support, he was the one who was giving all of us strength. Given his weak physical condition, he even found the strength to push my grandmother in a wheelchair. It was truly touching. After seeing his mother, he was much more at ease.

A few days before my father passed away, I sat at his bedside and had a very intimate conversation with him. During our conversation, I asked him whether or not he was scared. Again, he answered me with a firm no. He said he just wished to go painlessly. This truly blew me away. It was amazing to see him face death with such confidence. He was continually chanting Amitabha in his heart and was able to find a true sense of peace and happiness.

My father passed away at around four in the morning of December 20, 1997. There were no complications. He had simply fallen asleep. When the nurse woke me up, I was scared that he had undergone a painful death. But when I walked into the room, he was lying there comfortably with both of his hands on his belly. There was a sense of peace in the room. It was as if he was lifted towards heaven. I was truly touched by the fact that his wish for a painless death was fulfilled.

At his funeral, we played the farewell message that he had recorded after being diagnosed with cancer. In the message, he encouraged people to be pious towards their parents and kind towards others. He was also able to throw in a few jokes. He requested that all consolation money collected at his funeral be donated to the Tzu Chi Children's Rehabilitation Center. My father's heart was always with children, and he was able to show compassion towards them even after he passed away.