In my family, stories are more than memories — they are pieces of who we are, passed from one generation to the next. One of the most meaningful stories in my life is the story of my grandfather, Ramón. His struggles, joy, and the promise he made before I was born have shaped both my family and the person I am becoming. My grandfather spent many years traveling between Mexico and the United States (specifically Northern New Mexico). These trips were difficult and required courage, strength, and sacrifice. He came to the U.S. again and again, trying to earn enough to support my dad, my uncles, and eventually my grandmother. He worked wherever he could — in fields, construction, or any job that offered even a little pay. People remembered him as kind, helpful, funny, and always warm. Even on hard days, he found a reason to smile. My family says it was rare to see him sad because he always looked for the good in everything. When my grandfather learned that my dad had gotten my mom pregnant, he wasn’t upset. Instead, he was excited. And when he found out the baby would be a girl — the first girl ever in our family — his happiness grew even more. That moment inspired a promise he kept close to his heart. He prayed to San Judas and promised that one day he would take me to Mexico. He wanted to show me where he came from, where our roots were planted, and where our traditions lived. Every time he returned to the United States, facing discrimination and difficult work, he kept that promise alive. My family often heard him say, “Voy a trabajar duro para mi nieta consentida.” He pushed through every challenge because he wanted a better future for his children — and especially for me. When I was born, he adored me. My mom told me he would hold me and repeat the promise over and over, proudly saying he would be the one to take me to Mexico someday. I was young, but I remember his voice, his laughter, and the comfort he brought into every room. He wasn’t just my grandfather; he was my best friend. In 2013, my family lost him. His passing left a heavy emptiness, and the promise he made felt unfinished. Still, his words stayed with me as I grew up. Not long ago, I asked my mom if I could travel to Mexico for the first time. She hesitated until I told her, “Quiero cumplir la promesa de mi abuelito.” And finally, I went. One of the first places I visited was his grave. Standing there, I felt connected to him again, like part of his promise had finally reached me. But I knew there was still more. To truly honor him, I still need to go to Mexico City, to the Basilica de la Virgen de Guadalupe. In our tradition, when someone wants to complete a heartfelt promise, they walk on their knees toward the altar. My knees are bad — really bad — but I don’t care. I will do it for him. Even though he cannot take me physically, I will carry him with me. Through my steps, my faith, and my love, his promise will finally be fulfilled — through me.

As a first-generation student, I carry the weight of my family’s sacrifices every day. My parents work three jobs to support me and my sister, and I want to give them the life they deserve. We’ve faced racism and discrimination, but I’ve never let that stop me. Still, there were times when the pressure felt unbearable—especially after losing my grandfather, the person who believed in me the most. My grandpa was my best friend. When he became very sick and moved in with us, I became his caregiver. I gave him his medication every day, helped him move around, and stayed by his side. He used to tell me, “Mija, you have a big heart. Use it to fight for justice and make sure families like ours are never left unheard.” Those words stayed with me. But when his condition worsened and he had to be rushed to the hospital, I saw my parents struggle to communicate with the medical staff because they didn’t speak English. The staff was dismissive, and I had to step in to make sure my grandpa got the care he deserved. That experience taught me what advocacy truly means—and planted the seed for my dream of working in law. Before my grandpa passed away, he told me a dicho I’ll never forget: “Cuando una puerta se cierra, una nueva puerta siempre se va a abrir. Y Diosito siempre va a estar a tu lado, y igual yo, aunque no me veas, voy a estar allí echándote porras.” “When one door closes, another door opens. And God will always be by your side, and so will I—even if you can’t see me, I’ll be there cheering you on.” When he died, I fell into a deep depression. I wanted to give up plenty of times. The weight of being the oldest child, the family translator, and the one who had to figure everything out alone felt crushing. But every time I was ready to quit, I remembered his words. They reminded me to trust God and keep moving forward. I prayed every night, asking for strength and guidance. My faith gave me hope when nothing else could. It taught me that setbacks aren’t the end—they’re part of the journey. Today, I carry his message in my heart as I pursue my dream of becoming a lawyer. My faith didn’t just help me survive—it gave me a mission: to fight for families like mine, to ensure justice is accessible to everyone, and to honor the promise I made to my grandpa. Even when life closes a door, I believe God will always open another.

When my grandpa became very sick and moved in with us, my life changed completely. My parents worked long hours to support our family, so as the oldest child, I became his caregiver. I gave him his medication every day, helped him move around, and stayed by his side. I loved him deeply, but the responsibility was overwhelming. There were moments when I felt exhausted and scared—especially when his condition worsened and he had to be rushed to the hospital. That day was heartbreaking. My parents, who are immigrants, struggled to communicate with the nurses because they didn’t speak English. The staff was dismissive, and I had to step in to help. Seeing my grandpa in pain while we were being ignored was one of the hardest moments of my life. I felt powerless and angry, but I remembered something my grandpa told me before he passed away—a dicho that became my anchor: “Cuando una puerta se cierra, una nueva puerta siempre se va a abrir. Y Diosito siempre va a estar a tu lado, y igual yo, aunque no me veas, voy a estar allí echándote porras.” “When one door closes, another door opens. And God will always be by your side, and so will I—even if you can’t see me, I’ll be there cheering you on.” When he died, I fell into a deep depression. Losing him felt like losing my source of strength. I questioned everything—my goals, my ability to keep going. There were plenty of times when I wanted to give up completely. I felt like the weight of my family’s future was too heavy for me to carry. But every time I was ready to quit, I remembered his words. They reminded me to trust God and keep moving forward. I prayed every night, asking for guidance and strength, and slowly, I began to feel hope again. My faith gave me the courage to believe that even in pain, there was purpose. It taught me that setbacks aren’t the end—they’re part of the journey. Through prayer and trust in God, I found the strength to keep going, even when everything felt impossible. Losing my grandpa was the hardest obstacle I’ve faced, but his words and my faith carried me through. Today, I carry his message in my heart as I pursue my dream of becoming a nurse. My faith didn’t just help me survive—it gave me a mission: to heal, to comfort, and to remind others that even when life closes a door, God will always open another.

How Losing My Grandpa Shaped My Life and Career Dreams Growing up as the child of immigrant parents, I carried responsibilities that most kids my age never had to think about. My parents worked long hours to support our family, so when my grandpa—my best friend—became very sick and moved in with us, I became his caregiver. I gave him his medication every day at the exact time, helped him move around, and stayed by his side. He would thank me constantly, even though he felt guilty that I wasn’t outside playing like other kids. But I didn’t mind. I loved him, and I wanted to be there for him. He used to tell me, “Mija, you have a big heart. You should become a nurse.” Those words stayed with me. I thought about them every day. Then one day, his condition worsened, and he had to be rushed to the hospital. My parents, who are immigrants, struggled to communicate with the nurses because they didn’t speak English. The staff was dismissive and unkind, and I had to step in to help. It was heartbreaking and traumatic to see my grandpa in pain while we were being ignored. Then, a bilingual doctor came and changed everything. He listened, helped, and made sure my grandpa got the care he needed. That moment made me realize: I want to be that kind of nurse—someone who truly helps, who understands, and who stands up for families like mine. Before my grandpa passed away, he told me a dicho I’ll never forget: “Cuando una puerta se cierra, una nueva puerta siempre se va a abrir. Y Diosito siempre va a estar a tu lado, y igual yo, aunque no me veas, voy a estar allí echándote porras.” “When one door closes, another door opens. And God will always be by your side, and so will I—even if you can’t see me, I’ll be there cheering you on.” Those words became my anchor. Whenever I felt overwhelmed or wanted to give up, I remembered his voice. Thanks to him, I kept going. His message taught me that setbacks aren’t the end—they’re just part of the journey. Losing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced, but it gave me purpose. I want to turn my pain into something meaningful by becoming a nurse who not only heals but also brings comfort, understanding, and hope to others—just like my grandpa believed I could.

How My Mental Health Journey Shaped My Beliefs, Relationships, and Career Aspirations Growing up as the child of immigrant parents, I carried responsibilities that most kids my age never had to think about. From translating documents to handling school paperwork, I often felt like the weight of my family’s future rested on my shoulders. There was no roadmap—every step, from applying to college to understanding financial aid, was something I had to figure out on my own. That pressure created a constant fear of failure and a deep sense of guilt. I believed that if I didn’t succeed, I would be letting down not just myself, but my entire family. Before my grandpa passed away, he told me a dicho I’ll never forget: “Cuando una puerta se cierra, una nueva puerta siempre se va a abrir. Y Diosito siempre va a estar a tu lado, y igual yo, aunque no me veas, voy a estar allí echándote porras.” “When one door closes, another door opens. And God will always be by your side, and so will I—even if you can’t see me, I’ll be there cheering you on.” When he died, I fell into a deep depression. Losing him felt like losing my source of strength. I questioned everything—my goals, my ability to keep going. But remembering his words gave me hope. I knew he wouldn’t want me to stop there; he would want me to keep fighting. His message taught me that setbacks aren’t the end—they’re part of the journey. That belief changed how I see challenges: they’re opportunities to grow, not reasons to quit. My relationships also shifted. At first, I isolated myself because I didn’t want to burden anyone with my stress. I carried everything silently, thinking that was the only way to protect my family and keep up appearances. Over time, I realized that connection is essential for healing. Opening up to friends and mentors helped me feel less alone and reminded me that I deserve care just as much as I give it. Those conversations taught me that vulnerability builds stronger bonds. As for my career aspirations, these experiences lit a fire in me. I want to work in a field where I can advocate for others who feel unseen—especially first-generation students and families navigating systems that weren’t built for them. My mental health journey didn’t break me; it gave me purpose. I want to turn my struggles into a source of strength for others, so they know they’re not alone and that their challenges can become stepping stones toward something greater.

Personal Statement: Why I Want to Pursue a Nursing Degree Ever since I was little, I’ve known what it means to care for someone deeply. My grandpa was my best friend—the person I loved the most in this world. When he became very sick and had to move in with us, I became his caregiver. My parents were always working hard to support our family, and as the oldest child, I took on the responsibility of helping him. I gave him his medication every day at the exact time, helped him move around, and stayed by his side. He would always thank me, even though he felt guilty that I wasn’t outside playing like other kids. But I didn’t mind. I loved him, and I wanted to be there for him. He used to tell me, “Mija, you have a big heart. You should become a nurse.” Those words stayed with me. I thought about them every day. One day, my grandpa’s condition worsened, and he had to be rushed to the hospital. My parents, who are immigrants, struggled to communicate with the nurses because they didn’t speak English. The staff was dismissive and unkind, and I had to step in to help. It was heartbreaking and traumatic to see my grandpa in pain while we were being ignored. Then, a bilingual doctor came and changed everything. He listened, helped, and made sure my grandpa got the care he needed. That moment made me realize: I want to be that kind of nurse. Someone who truly helps, who understands, and who stands up for families like mine. Later, I took a CNA class and worked in a living center. I noticed that many residents didn’t have family visiting them—they were often alone. So I made it my mission to bring smiles to their faces. I would talk to them, listen to their stories, and make them laugh. I wanted them to feel seen, loved, and cared for. Before my grandpa passed away, he told me a dicho I’ll never forget: “Cuando una puerta se cierra, una nueva puerta siempre se va a abrir. Y Diosito siempre va a estar a tu lado, y igual yo, aunque no me veas, voy a estar allí echándote porras.” “When one door closes, another door opens. And God will always be by your side, and so will I—even if you can’t see me, I’ll be there cheering you on.” I carry those words with me every day. They remind me why I want to become a nurse—not just to heal, but to be a source of comfort, understanding, and hope.

As a first-generation student, I carry the weight of my family’s sacrifices every day. My parents work three jobs to support me and my sister, and I want to give them the life they deserve. We’ve faced racism and discrimination, but I’ve never let that stop me. Instead, it has fueled my determination to succeed. I want to pursue a career in law—not only because it’s a field I’m passionate about, but because it’s a promise I made to my grandfather before he passed away. He told me, “Persigue siempre tus sueños mija y nunca te rindas, sin importar lo difíciles que se pongan las cosas o cuántas personas intenten bloquear tu camino.” His words echo in my heart every time I feel doubt creeping in. I still remember his voice saying, “Cuando una puerta se cierra, una nueva puerta siempre se va a abrir. Y Diosito siempre va a estar a tu lado, y igual yo, aunque no me veas, voy a estar allí echándote porras.” Those words became my compass. They remind me that even when life feels overwhelming, there is always hope and purpose waiting for me. My grandfather’s illness taught me what advocacy truly means. I saw how much pain comes when people don’t understand their rights or can’t speak up for themselves. I watched my parents struggle to communicate with medical staff, and I had to step in to make sure my grandfather got the care he deserved. That experience shaped my dream of working in law. I want to be the person who fights for families like mine, who ensures that justice is not just a word but a reality for everyone—regardless of language, income, or background. This scholarship would mean more than financial help. It would be a symbol that my hard work matters, that my family’s sacrifices were not in vain. It would help me take the next step toward my dream and honor the promise I made to my grandfather. I am determined to work hard, become a lawyer, and give back to my community by providing legal support that is compassionate, fair, and accessible. I want to make my parents proud. I want to show them that every long shift, every sleepless night, every moment of fear was worth it. And I want to live a life that reflects the lessons my grandfather taught me: perseverance, faith, and the power of standing up for others.