Father Pat Twohy,
I hope you can feel how deeply I love you. I wanted to share a few words that have lived in my heart for a long time — not to burden you, but to thank you for the profound gift you’ve been in my life. I’m hoping that by writing you this letter beforehand, I might get a better hold of my emotions before seeing you!
I was in the middle of a catastrophic tornado—disoriented, confused, everything crashing, tumbling, twisting, unearthing all before me. I couldn’t catch my breath, or rather, I wouldn’t. I surrendered. I accepted and wielded a fate I didn’t even realize I had a choice in.
I never imagined I, too, could have a birthright of my own—space to take, a place to stand.
You see, Father, before you, love always had a price. To be seen required a transaction, a sacrifice, a prerequisite. But in one of the greatest times of my distress—at a moment I never could have anticipated—I encountered you. And my life has never been the same.
You are the turning point of my life.
Through you, I encountered my own defined faith, my profound relationship with God, and my formidable spirit. You were my catalyst, Father. It was you who planted the seeds, and nurtured my roots so I could weather the storms that would later come. Your presence alone gave me something that not only made me feel whole, but also broke apart the pieces of me that no longer served me.
Before you, I had never felt love without condition.
I remember feeling confused—disoriented, even—when I was given the privilege to spend time with you, to share, and to receive your mentorship. I, who had nothing to offer, was still gifted your presence amid your busy, hectic life, for no other reason than love. This puzzled me, perplexed me, and then ultimately shattered me. It was a love I did not know and could not understand. That revelation redefined my understanding of love entirely—and in doing so, reshaped my relationship with God.
For the first time in my life, I felt grounded. Even while I remained in the turmoil of suffering, my gaze began to focus. In retrospect, I can see this clearly. At the time, I was simply trying to roll with the punches—and they never seemed to stop coming.
Eventually, I became consumed with guilt. So impoverished in gratitude, grace, zeal, and life, I began to feel like a burden to you. Unaccustomed to unconditional love, I felt undeserving of your presence, your warmth. I worried that simply being near you would somehow take from you.
Like Adam and Eve in the garden after the fall, I felt too ashamed and unworthy to face you.
For this, I am truly, deeply, and wholeheartedly sorry.
I have wasted so many years hiding. I robbed us of precious time I will never get back, and the grief of that loss devastates me. As a mother, I now understand the weight of what I have done. I want to apologize, but my words feel painfully inadequate. How can I possibly face you—and yet, how can I not?
You are my heart. I carry you in my soul.
I still exist because you loved me. And my children, my current life are an extension of that love.
Life before today has left me obliterated—devastated—with nothing above the dirt and soil to prove my existence. But the roots you planted and nurtured, though buried deep and unseen, persisted. I remember spiraling into an abyss of tears. And then thinking of you right before the darkness completely closed in on me.
I remember the afternoon we shared tea on campus. You tended the kettle while I admired your photos, the native artwork, and the sacred details of your space. You showed me your prom pictures, your poems, and then we spoke of grief—how it nicks at us until we finally crack, crumble, and collapse into ashes. And how, through our tears offered to God, we become clay in His hands, reshaped into something new.
That image has never left me. It’s pulled me through the thickest mud, and gave me hope when life felt bleak and futile. Your loving presence, the Santa Claus twinkle in your eyes, has meant more to me than I can express. I am who I am today because of you. I carry conviction in my life and faith because you had conviction in me.
I will never be able to fully express my gratitude, but I hope you know how deeply I have cherished you, adored you, and honored the gift of knowing you. You are a beautiful soul, and I will always hold you close in my heart.
Thank you for your fire, your humor, your stubborn faith, and your endless love. I’m so grateful to know you, Father Pat, and I can’t wait to see you.
With love,
Nhung