Reflection is a huge part of growing up. When you are a child you tend to overlook how specific moments in time shape your well-being and identity. Looking back, I have come to realize that the death of my grandmother 15 years ago was one of those moments. While her death was of natural causes and expected, her passing took an emotional toll on my life. My grandma’s death affected each of my family members in unique and personal ways. My parents became stagnant, less-interactive versions of themselves. They grew detached from their emotions and our once cohesive family became unstable and slowly drifted apart. During this period of my life, I became disengaged with my education and made it my mission to bring my family back together. I listened when my father reminisced about old memories he shared with my grandmother and I accompanied my mother when she went back to the thrift store to buy back my grandma’s old clothes. I tried my best to accommodate my family’s needs. However, as a 10-year-old, my attempts to reconnect my family went unnoticed. More than anything, I wished I had someone to talk to. Someone who tried to accommodate my needs. I know that during this traumatic period in my life, a school psychologist could have positively impacted my mental well-being because I would have realized that a 10-year-old child should have simpler priorities. The profound impact that this traumatic experience had on my childhood has driven me to pursue a career helping youth who require emotional, physical, and educational assistance.