Brent Gordon Foundation Scholarship

I lost my dad when I was nine years old. Even now, I struggle to explain what he meant to me, because our relationship was never simple. I loved him, resented him, and missed him constantly. He struggled with addiction, which meant I grew up knowing two versions of the same person. When he was sober, he was bubbly, funny, and loving. He was the kind of person you wanted to be around. When he was using, he was distant and cold, and he chose pills over everything else, including me. His suicide marked the end of something I held onto for years. I lost the hope that one day we could get better, that we could overcome the past and be okay as a family. I lost the belief that he might come home and tell me everything was going to be alright. That realization hit me hard and stayed with me. I started therapy and used every mental health resource I could access, but I still struggled in ways I did not yet have words for. Grief changed how I saw the world, how I trusted people, and how I understood safety. One of the most unexpected challenges was living in his absence while carrying his presence. I have his face, his sense of humor, his empathy, even small things like our tiny thumbs. For many people, being close to me felt like being close to him. I became a reminder of someone they had lost, and in their grief, I often felt like I had to be whatever they needed me to be. That left little room for my own emotions, especially when I was still trying to figure out whether the man I missed had truly loved me or not. At the same time, my mom was suddenly raising me alone. She worked constantly and put herself through night school to try to build a life for us. Financially and emotionally, things were tight. Still, she did everything she could, and watching her persevere showed me what strength looks like long before I understood it myself. Over time, I found stability in education. School became my anchor and the place where I could finally express who I was. I discovered that I loved science, but I loved people even more. Through honors classes, service organizations, and student leadership, I learned how to believe in myself through hardship and to keep moving forward even when life felt unfair. I learned to be grateful for the people I have and to never take a single moment with them for granted, because love is not a promise. Losing my father shaped my desire to pursue medicine in a deeply personal way. I know what it feels like to be alone, to feel unsupported, and to wish someone would show up and stay. I want to be that person for others. I am passionate about serving underserved communities, building trust, and being a steady source of care and reassurance. Being able to combine that purpose with my fascination for human biology is exactly where I am meant to be. Today, I am driven, empathetic, and deeply aware of the world around me. I am grateful for the resilience my life demanded of me and for the compassion it gave me in return. Most of all, I am grateful to be alive and able to dream as boldly as I do. I will never stop dreaming, growing, or working toward a future where I can be there for people who need someone in their corner.