My father’s condition had worsened; bedridden and moved to the Intensive Care Unit, he could barely open his eyes. I was not allowed to see him, but my mother and aunt snuck me in with my hood up with no nurses present on his end of the hall. I watched as he almost unconsciously nodded as I spoke to him. By this time, he was unable to speak. My mother told me a few years later how much he talked about how he hated laying in bed and how his body denied him mobility. At eleven years old, I could not begin to understand how deeply my father suffered in physical and mental achings. In the time he spent hospitalized, there was little that brought light to his still eyes. The little faith he had in his recovery was because of the nurses who took care of him. They were committed to providing necessary care for him. As critical care nurses, they were especially dedicated to his recovery and balanced this with reassuring my family that they were doing as much as they could to help his condition. I know that the nurse who primarily took care of him held strong faith that he would recover. She provided necessary care and comfort for my father, but beyond that, she deeply cared for him as an individual and about reuniting him with family again. My mother told me about how it was always my father’s main nurse who told him and my family that he would hopefully be able to begin physical therapy once the plasma treatments in his blood worked. When my father became still and the only light present in his eyes were the ones on the ceiling of the hospital room, my mother later described to me how the nurses wept. They had been so passionate about caring for my father, so dedicated to his recovery, and had such deep hope that he would recover that they wept for him. More importantly, my mother also told me that she witnessed how the hope they had for my father’s recovery allowed him to have hope as well. This hope encouraged him to power through his final weeks. It positively impacted the way he viewed his condition and allowed him to push on. In the years following this experience, I have realized that I want to become a nurse and be as dedicated to every patient I come into contact with as the nurses who cared for my father. I want to continue the hope that the nurses gave my father into the hearts of all my future patients. I would consider pursuing critical care nursing to help patients with more severe conditions and dedicate myself to each patient’s recovery. In doing so, I also feel that I would be honoring both my father’s memory and the memory of the kind nurses who devoted themselves to his recovery.