Tribute to Mr Le Thanh Hoang Dan

Đặng Tấn Phúc

Today is a Sunday (2 August 2026) I will never forget. It started with sad news: a Facebook friend I deeply respected had passed away.

He was a man many people knew and admired online. Once a teacher in Vietnam, he moved to the United States and built a successful, meaningful life there. What touched me most was how he spent his last months, weeks, and even days. Almost every single day, he posted on Facebook. He openly shared about his health, and again and again, he told everyone: Life is precious. Live it fully. Life is wonderful. He never stopped saying how grateful he was for his family — his life partner, his children, his grandchildren, and even his great-grandchildren.

I want to thank him for his big, generous heart. He did not have to share his most personal journey with strangers and friends. But he did, because he wanted us all to remember what truly matters. His life is a true example for me to follow. He reminded me, in the clearest way, that life is short and none of us knows what tomorrow will bring.

His words did not just stay on a screen — they changed how I lived today. Tonight I went to a party. Usually I feel nervous and hold back from singing. But today I sang. And while I sang, I thought only of him. That song was my small, personal way to celebrate his life and honour what he taught me.

I am so glad our paths crossed as Facebook friends. In his last months, I wrote him long messages to say how much his posts meant to me. He always replied with a simple, warm “thank you.” Those exchanges are treasures to me now.

He was a man who faced the end of his life with courage, gratitude, and hope — and he gave all of that away freely to anyone who read his words. His success was not just the life he built for himself. It is the ripples he left behind: people like me, singing a little louder, holding joy a little tighter, and choosing to live more fully because of him.

So today, in his memory, I make this quiet promise to myself:

I will not wait. I will take the small, brave chances. I will say “thank you” while people can still hear it. And whenever I sing without fear, I will remember him — and know that his lesson is still working, still alive, in me.

Đặng Tấn Phúc.