<div><strong>Requesting Help Opening a BBQ / KARAOKE BAR in the Afterlife</strong>
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>...And here we are. My father, Phannaleth Chanthavong, passed away surrounded by family on July 29, 2025, and I am processing it all.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>So let me try and swing sentences together to honor a man who loved us with hugs, steak, drinks and songs. I hope by the time you finish this read you find your dad and call him, give him a hug and buy him dinner.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Dad leaves behind myself, my sister Ana, his wife Lak, and his adorable grandson Ezekiel who starts school soon!
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/93191401_1753922773700070_r." width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>
<div>...I don't want to write this.
</div>
<div>...Because it means he's really gone.
</div>
<div>...I hate that I have to say goodbye at all.
</div>
<div>...But here we are, and thank you for holding space for all of us as we figure out what's next.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>So, dear reader, I want you to know about my dad, a couple stories to get to know him. I'd tell you all I can between tears.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>The Man Who Taught me the Hug</strong>
</div>
<div>If you've ever said to me "You give great hugs!" or "wow, nice hug," then know that it came from my father. He didn't raise me, but his blood, his laugh, his smile, and his love are expressed in many things I do. Our phone calls were simple but not much needed to be said, always met with a warm "Hi Son, what you doing, you eat? Noodle? Again?!"
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>When I did visit him, it took just a few powerful hugs in my life to know him. As I grew older I would learn to love as deeply as he did and hug just as strong. If you ever felt love from me, it's because he taught me the meaning of a hug at a very young age. To be given freely without judgment and openly with love. In a way, by extension, my father has been here the whole time. I am him when I drink, or when I share a meal and laugh.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/93191401_1753927642638470_r." width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>No Safe Squirrels, What Food Means.</strong>
</div>
<div>My aunt says she used to joke with him that they'd let him into heaven and kick him out because he would eat all the food. Then when Hell ran out of beer, they'd try to transfer him out of there too. So where would he go? It's not like it's his first time being an immigrant—he will find his way.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Speaking of that, my older cousin Robin, told me a story once when he and his brother (her Dad) were in the middle of a park in Philly. It went something like this, presumably in Laotian:
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>"I want Laap," my Dad might have said when he was 30. Fresh off the boat and craving Laos' national dish, a spicy, lime and mint meat salad.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>"Laap?! Hell...we not in Lao anymore, and we broke," says Uncle Diamond, his older brother.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>They see a squirrel for the first time run across the park and both of them look at each other.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><em>Dinner.</em>
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Picture two fully grown men hunting squirrels to make a dish from the motherland. I wanna say no animals were hurt in the making of this meat salad but, it's very likely they caught the thing and did what they had to.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Time rolls on and Dad finds work, meets my Mom, and I was born in 1990. However, things shifted and life goes the way it does, I went with my Mom to the east coast and Dad stayed West.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/93191401_1753927683862888_r." width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>
<div>He worked, found love again, and raised a beautiful family. My sister is amazing and we both carry his charm into the future. We were driving down the high way and I couldnt help but think, it's a blessing he made two of us—I could not be as strong if she was not here too.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/93191401_1753927927722222_r." width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>The Last Days</strong>
</div>
<div>His last days were a fight, and I could not be more proud of the life he built for himself. Surrounded by love, met with smiles. In the end he fought three kinds of cancer at the same time and we had many moments of hope, but the numbers were not in our favor. His reply "Oh shit..."
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>In the dark nights of sitting in the hospital alongside him we would have conversations. He said he wasn't sure how to fight, and I told him sometimes fighting looks like drinking water. To which he drank a lot more water the following day. His spirit was stronger than his body and seeing him eat, drink and just try to sit up was inspiring.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Yet his condition worsened and when it was finally time we decided to take him home. We sat, talked, ate some home-cooked meals, and I had many moments of "ah, I do that thing too..."
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>I am him in mannerisms and comedic cadence. Sometimes it felt like I could almost understand exactly what he was saying in grunts and mumbles because I can be like that too when I am tired... It was special to see how much of him lives on in me and all of us.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>The Man Who Sings and Smiles.</strong>
</div>
<div>And so here we are.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>I wonder where he's going, and I think I already know—he's going to make the Afterlife's Best Karaoke and Lao BBQ Bar, make a million AfterLife Bucks, and go fishing with my Uncle and Grandpa. From where I'm standing, Dad's place sounds way more fun than heaven or hell. It smells like grilled steak over charcoal, and sounds like belly laughs and casual swears. It feels like warm sticky rice and the place vibrates with friends, family singing off-key.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>And in the corner near the firepit Dad is sitting with a beer in hand smiling at how many people came over.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/93191401_1753928216823544_r." width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>
<div>________________________________________________________
</div>
<div><strong>The Ask for Support</strong>
</div>
<div>Now, through tears and to-dos, we want to give my father a proper sendoff. I wish we had millions. I wish we had billionaire-class healthcare, just to see one more day with him. But we don't. We're here now and we need help from the community to give my Dad a proper send-off.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>It's not money for the end, it's seed money to give the man a first-class ticket to the next place. To arrive in style in that 1970s white Corvette with the snake decal on the back. It's to help him open a new place in the Afterlife so he doesn't have to kill all of Heaven's squirrels to make his favorite foods.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/93191401_1753928410109769_r." width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>
<div>We are asking for support to create a Buddhist altar and ceremony for the man who taught me how to hug. If you have it in your means, my family would deeply appreciate the help. I'm sad I won't get to introduce you to him in this lifetime. But then again…to know me, my sister, or the little one is to know him. If you ever ate with a Chanthavong then you were likley well fed and laughed with a full belly.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>The Numbers, What We're Raising For:</strong>
</div>
<div>1. Buddhist Ceremony &amp; Altar – $5,000
</div>
<ul>
<li>Altar setup (incense, candles, offerings, flowers, framed photos)
</li>
<li>The physical altar itself
</li>
<li>Donations for the monks who will chant and bless his spirit
</li>
<li>A meal for the family and guests—because you know there's no Lao ceremony without food. In this case, about 5 days of food.
</li>
</ul>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>2. Funeral Home, Cremation &amp; Memorial Service – $10,000
</div>
<ul>
<li>Cremation fees, urn, permits, casket
</li>
<li>Memorial keepsakes like photo boards or printed tributes
</li>
</ul>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>3. Hosting &amp; Personal Logistics – $1,000–$1,500
</div>
<ul>
<li>Travel costs to get things in order
</li>
<li>Replacing a broken fridge and a few household needs while we host and grieve. I will likely be cooking and we need a fridge to make all the food for service.
</li>
<li>A bit of cushion so I can take time off to do this right
</li>
</ul>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>4. If We Go Beyond the Goal…
</div>
<ul>
<li>Set aside for Ezekiel the Grandson to use for school
</li>
<li>Help with things around the house like storage and cleaning
</li>
<li>Give some financial relief to family to use at their discretion
</li>
</ul>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>In Lao Buddhist tradition, we don't just say goodbye once. We honor our loved ones over 100 days—through meals, altars, prayer, and presence. This fundraiser isn't for a single ceremony—it's for the entire passage. Every dollar helps carry my father through each of these sacred steps.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/93191401_1754103622230421_r.jpeg" width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>Final Notes:</strong>
</div>
<div>I want to say that cancer is awful and I hope one day it's eliminated from humanity. It was hard to watch sometimes but, now he is resting in peace. I am proud of him and proud of the family for pulling through. I think we made him proud too. So with all that said, please take time to hold your loved ones, and visit the hospital for check-ups. Please take care of yourself and also get life insurance if you don't already.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Unfortunately, Dad did not set up life insurance so we are doing our best to find support in these hard times. Any donations are appreciated and kind words and condolences are also appreciated.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Thanks for all the love,
</div>
<div>The Chanthavongs, and cheers from my Dad.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/93191401_1753928609289026_r." width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>

Tristan Gavin

Ilia Sukhotin

Ismael Depina

Allison Obrien

Katie Deng

Crystal Logn

dyllan nguyen

Anonymous

Marguerite Cass

Alexander Gribov

Kristen Hoskins

Lila Feldman

Jon Lynch

Amber Vistein

Kathryn Nowoswiat

Michael Shick

Kathryn Bossi

Brooke Scibelli

A Tribute to Phannaleth Chanthavong.

A Tribute to Phannaleth Chanthavong.

Still $3,940 to go. Help us build momentum.