.

When I was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor at 37 years old, I discovered what many survivors discover too late, that it's far too easy to sleepwalk through life, blind to the miracles that occur around us a thousand times a day.

At the time I was diagnosed, I had a 3-year-old daughter, a precious girl I hoped to see grow up. Suddenly those hopes appeared ephemeral, out of reach. What I had left were the days I had with her, each precious moment, each precious hour.

Even as I lay in my hospital bed, I thought of all the years I'd miss, but, worse yet, I imagined my daughter growing up without a dad.

I started writing letters to her immediately after surgery, even as my prognosis grew worse, knowing she was too young to read them, too young to understand.

I didn't know then, I don't know now, how much longer I'll survive.

None of us does.

But the letters in this book are my legacy to my daughter, postcards from a storm.

To read the letters, click here.

-- Greg Raver-Lampman