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A Daughter’s Love

By Author Latrice Gleen

When a strong, active father gets hit with a Stage 4 lung cancer diagnosis, the whole world shifts. Plans change. Life changes. But the bond between a father and his daughter? That never fades.

In A Daughter’s Love, Latrice Gleen pours her soul onto the page — sharing the raw, unfiltered journey of walking beside her father through one of life’s hardest battles. From the moment of that gut-punch diagnosis to long nights in the hospital, from private breakdowns to the sacred final moments, this memoir is a truth-telling testimony about love, pain, and the weight of watching your hero slowly slip away.

This story is written with honesty, grace, and the kind of love that doesn’t let go. It’s not just about dying — it’s about living. It’s about devotion. It’s about the strength it takes to carry someone else when your own heart is breaking.

Because when cancer takes the body… love is what carries the soul.

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A Daughter’s Love

By Author Latrice Gleen

My father, Al, always said, “I’m going to ride until the wheels fall off.” And if you knew him, you knew he meant it.

He was a real man. Strong and active. The kind of man who didn’t wait on life, he lived it. Bike rides through the neighborhood. Cooking, fixing things around the house. A man in his 80s still raising three children.

Then March 2018 hit.

What started as a stubborn cough and cold turned into a Stage 4 lung cancer diagnosis. He went to the hospital thinking it was a cold. Then they said pneumonia. While he was there, they spotted spots on his lungs. From there, everything changed. It was cancer.

Still, he didn’t fold. He took the news like he took everything else — head-on. He said he would beat it. At that stage, I was worried. I believed in God and healing, but I thought it was too far gone.

The hospital visits became our normal. Chemotherapy sessions with me and my two older sisters. We were on his schedule. The pain, the meds, the waiting. I stayed strong for him, but inside I was broken. He would just sleep during chemo. Never complained.

No tears could fall — at least not in front of him. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him. So I tucked my tears behind a smile and kept showing up.

We went through the next 7–8 months together, talking and texting every day. Some nights, no sleep — from work to Dad, back to work. My sisters were right there with me every step of the way.

His health kept declining. What he thought would help him beat it wasn’t enough. He worried about how he looked, but I told him, “You still look good. At least your hair didn’t fall out.” I would braid his hair when he asked.

Then came his last appointment. My sister took him, and that day she texted me: “They said there’s nothing more they can do for him.” It felt like a knife in my heart. Deep down I knew, but seeing it written crushed me. I just stared at my phone and cried.

Later he called me.

Dad: “Hey, Tricey.”

Me: “Hey Dad, what’s up?”

Dad: “They told me it’s nothing else they can do for me.”

Me: “Dad, do I need to come over? I’ll be on my way.”

Dad: “No, don’t come over. I’m ok. I lived my life.”

Me (fighting tears): “Ok…”

Dad: “And don’t you be crying. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

That night, I went out to drink with two people I consider brothers, but his words stayed with me: “Nothing else they can do.”

His 82nd birthday came October 8, 2018. We showed up with cake and balloons, Myself, my sister and some nieces and nephews.. He was smaller at this time, weak, in pain, sitting in his recliner. We sang Happy Birthday. And through it all, he clapped and smiled like he knew it was his last birthday. It hurt him to clap but he celebrated that last birthday.

Weeks later, he only wanted quiet in his home and his kids close by. He refused to leave his house of 40 years, he didn't want to go to hospicevat first. Hospice would come to the house, and I wanted to be there everyday but with work it was hard.  I filed FMLA paperwork to stay and care for him and waited for that approval. One day my friend told me to go lay next to my Dad.  That to me was different, i didn't think he'd want me in his space but I did just what she told me to do.  Lying next to him in the dark and I finally grabbed his hand and just held it. Silent tears fell becausei really couldn't believethis became my life, but he didn’t notice and I couldn't let him know I was crying. 

Eventually, he agreed to hospice because it was only so much we could do. The day they came to get him, me and my sister were there. He didn’t want clothes on because he really was in pain so he just wrapped up in a sheet. In November, Buffalo is cold. He asked me to grab his peace lily, his glasses, and some money he owed me out the wallet. I didn’t care about the money but he insisted on paying me back. When they came to take him, he kept asking we're we coming.  He just wanted us there and we told him we will be right behind him. When they carried him out, I saw my Dad cry silently as he left his home.  He knew he wouldn't be returning.  This was only the third time in my life I've seen my Dad cry.  Watching him leave crying broke me and my sister all the way down.  We hugged and cried fit a good 3 minutes. I told her go ahead so she can be there when he gets there. He needs to see us.  I stayed back and got myself together and locked up the house. 

November 30–December 1, 2018.

I stayed with him until 2 a.m., then went to work and came right back, I had to do a quick 4 hour shift . He was joking with nurses, asking for tea to drink, still trying to be his funny self. His throat was hurting he told me.  The nurses also told me he told them he didn't want to be washed up but I told him "Dad they need to wash you up, okay" and he agreed. 

When they cleaned him up, he said, “Oh boy, I feel like royalty” We laughed.  I said " the royal treatment". That small joy meant everything to me to see him happy and feeling good despite of. 

But his voice grew scratchy. He needed help with everything. He got me good.  He said "Tricey I have to pee" I  looked around and said "ummm let me get the nurse" He said he couldn't wait he had to go now. SO I became the nurse in that moment.  I held that little bucket thing for 15 minutes and he kept saying he wasn't done but nothing was even going in the thing — me, not a nurse, just his daughter doing what love required had no clue hs body was shutting down at that time.

By evening, my siblings arrived. Even my mom. He couldn’t swallow pills by then, so they  had to crush them up and put in his mouth. His body was failing. We sat in silence alot and in the dark, we played gospel music. He stayed awake, eyes wide open, still alert, he just wouldn't rest. I told him, “Dad, it’s okay to rest.” But he didn’t. His eyes followed me until the moment I had to leave.  I needed to go home change, shower, regroup, take a shot and come back. My siblings were still there so I was good. 

“I love you, Dad. I’ll be back.” His eyes followed me as I walked out that door. 

At 10:17 p.m., my sister called: “Come back. Daddy’s gone.” My friend has meet me at my house with a Burke of ciroc for me.  I showered and changed. I want home for not even 20 minutes when I got that call. My friend drove me back to the facility to be with my sister's and brothers.

I said "He waited until I stepped away and left to leave here  Still protecting me". I definitely could not have seen him take his last breath but my brother told me he did and he never closed his eyes.  

When I walked in the facility, I didn’t feel fear. I felt peace, because he no longer was suffering and i didn't want to be selfish. I kissed his forehead. Rubbed his head like always.

Hugged my brother and, for the first time, let every tear fall that I' had held in all day. 

December 1, 2018, was the last time I saw my father in the flesh. But his presence is everywhere. In my dreams. Around my neck, I carry his ashes close to my heart.

He didn’t want a funeral. But I did do a memorial.  We honored his wish to be cremated and spread him in Florida waters.

He is still with me every single day. I really miss him more than I could have ever imagined.  He was my OG. He gave me the name "Watermelon Woman" because he would run me to the store for watermelon all the time.  Have you ever seen a love one in a busy bag??? Yea, It was my first time and it was one of the hardest things to see.  

And until I see him again, I’ll keep riding this thing called life — ’til the wheels fall off. 💙