Chad Mangalmurti, MD.

I am, as you'll find, probably not as eloquent as everyone else who's been up here. If you read the brochure, you'll probably read everything that I found about Dai. It is with a profound sadness, but also a sense of honor, that I talk about my friend, Dr. Vinh. I see his family, his friends, colleagues, residents, students, nurses, coworkers here today. Everyone loved and respected Dai in their own way.

Maybe this was part of his charm and his gift, and I'm sure he made others feel the same way, but I felt that he and I had a very special bond. Some of our coworkers joked and called us father and son. The trend now, you've disabused me of my specialness, and I see that everyone else felt the same way.

Dai had a tremendous influence on me professionally as a mentor and a friend. While I would say that maybe it was because we both had a childlike and often childish sense of humor, I do think it was also because he was so full of life and had a contagious happiness.

I have many stories I could tell, but I'm not sure they would be appropriate in this setting. He was fluent in French, well read in philosophy, fascinated by history and historic battles. He loved good food, gambling, especially his chili peppers, and I'm sure some of you enjoyed his obsession with mahjong. He was a generous man and a true Renaissance man. I think he also knew every single quick escape out of the hospital to go for a quick smoke in between cases.

Those few who are here, and those in spirit watching virtually, know that Dai loved and respected his wife, Hoa. He was proud of his daughter Trân and her family, and especially his grandson Lucien, the mention of whom always brought a twinkle to his eyes.

But, he had a maybe not so secret mistress: Her name was surgery. I do believe that Dai lived, breathed, and bled surgery. Intellectually sharp with magic hands and an ever inquisitive nature, he was my role model. You could always find him trolling the library for articles, learning the latest concept, wanting to try new procedures. This passion manifested like an aura and to instill that appreciation in the many students and residents with whom he worked. Dai's legacy will be that of a love of surgery, and more importantly, the laughter and joy he engendered in everyone, and the infectious desire to be the best person and surgeon one could be.

But as we often know too well, the fates do not bother themselves with worth of a person or the good that they do. They're capricious and willful and took Dai Vinh from us far too soon. I will not forgive the fates, but I will miss you dearly, my friend, Dai.

- Dr. Chad Mangalmurti