My dad worked two jobs to keep our family afloat. He woke up before the sun and came home long after it went down. When I was a kid, I barely saw him—except on weekends, or if I happened to stay up late.
One morning, I woke up early—real early. Around 5AM. I heard something in the kitchen and went down to check.
It was my dad. Sitting alone at the table. Praying in the quiet.
We talked for a few minutes. I made him a cup of coffee—nothing fancy, just what we had. He looked at me and said,
“This is the first time you’ve made me coffee. Thank you, son. I’m proud of you.”
After that, I made it a habit to wake up early—even when he told me to sleep in. I just wanted a few more minutes with him. We’d sit together, pray, and drink our morning coffee.
I’d tell him about school, my sisters, mom… life. It was simple. It was good.
Then one morning, I woke up like usual—but he wasn’t there.
I walked into my parents’ room and saw my mom crying.
Dad had passed in his sleep.
Overworked. Worn out. Gone.
He never asked for much. He never complained. He just gave everything for us.
Now, every time I visit my parents' grave, I bring Vietnamese coffee—his favorite. He used to say:
“It clears the mind. And you need a clear mind when you talk to God.”
Warzone Coffee isn’t just a brand. It’s a piece of him.
True story from Vàng A Tồng - Warzone Coffee founder