It all started with a limp. The usual walk from the living room to the bathroom became increasingly challenging for my dad, but I never imagined that minor limp would turn into him not being able to walk or move his limbs three years later. I never imagined that it would lead to him losing his voice. And I never imagined that it would ultimately lead to his death. In my sophomore year of high school, my dad’s ALS progressed to the point where he began to use a walker to navigate throughout the house. He was still able to do things for himself at the time, but the frequent fallings and the inability to pick himself up turned into him being entirely unable to care for himself. In my junior year, I assumed a primary role in caring for my father. I prepared his meals and fed him, made phone calls, wrote letters and emails on his behalf, and helped with hygienic tasks. It was hard seeing my dad, someone I had never seen sick before, succumb to this unexpected illness. In my senior year, my dad’s sickness became drastically worse to the point where he lost his voice. Since he had lost function in his limbs and couldn't write, the only other option to communicate was by nodding and with his eyes. To make this more accessible, I made a 5-column, 7-row chart to act as his speech surrogate. The top row of the chart was composed of the numbers one through five, each having its own box. Underneath that row were letters of the alphabet split into groups of six. The next few rows included smaller numbers from one to one thousand and special characters. With the set-up of the chart, my dad was able to communicate by nodding his head "yes" or shaking it for "no" to signal which letters he wanted until a word and eventually a sentence was formed. While the chart was tedious at times, I know it comforted my dad to know that although his voice was gone, it wasn't a sentence for complete silence. In February of 2023, my dad was hospitalized and placed on a ventilator. He remained bedridden for two months until he was put on hospice and died a day later. During those two months, I juggled driving two hours to and from the hospital almost every day of the week where I spent hours visiting him with work and school. Though it was hard and trying on my mental health, I knew that my dad needed me to be his voice. There is no doubt that I am now grieving the loss of my father, but during this time, I have learned that my father and I are more similar than I ever thought. I received my love of art from him. His passion for drawing, painting, and creating music and shows are passions we share so profoundly that even as he is now gone, these attributes still link me with him. Though it is hard for me to imagine a life without my dad, I know our love for each other will never deter. Being a recipient of this scholarship would relieve the financial stress of college and allow me to pursue a degree and career in film and television production. As I grieve and yearn to find others who understand the pain of a major loss, creating and sharing this story will hopefully reach people that are going through the same struggles and help them find community and realize that they are not alone.

February was the month when my life began to change for the worst. My dad just had been admitted to the hospital in critical condition due to the progression of his terminal illness and I could feel my world turning on its axis. During this time, I went to the hospital every day for hours speaking and trying to communicate with him to make sure that he felt supported and knew that he wasn't alone. Sadly, during that time, I felt more alone than I had ever been in my life due to being ostracized by his family. It was a dark time because I didn't know how to cope with the fact that my dad was in such a condition and that his family would treat his daughter that way. I felt paranoid, assumed the worst in everyone, and had low expectations for others because it seemed like I had to bear the weight of these stressors all on my own. If there's one thing my father's hospitalization taught me is that even when people are waiting to see you fall, there will be others there to pick you up. In between driving an hour back and forth to see my father, focusing on finishing my last semester of high school strong, and working, it was an ordeal to see my dad every day but I knew he needed someone, if not me, to check on him. Through chance and faith, I was introduced to a family friend who was willing to lift some of the weight off my shoulders and assist me with caring for my dad. She ensured that he was comfortable, became a voice for him as he no longer had one, and in his last days of life, became a new friend. Grateful cannot fully express my appreciation for her act of kindness. But because of her and people like her, it made me realize that those who are meant to support you will be there no matter what. Because of this act of kindness, I've challenged myself to become the person that someone needs when they feel like no one else sees or understands them. Whenever my friends are going through a rough period in their life, I become that shoulder they lean on and an ear that listens to them. I don't just offer services and not follow through with them, I go out of my way to provide them with support even when they don't ask. I let people know I see them and what they've accomplished even if we are not extremely close. I know first-hand what it means to have someone see you and understand what you've been doing when you don't realize it. Though this was a rough period in my life, I realized that there is still good in the world and people who want to see you prosper. Paying it forward to me means doing my due diligence in enacting kindness and compassion for those facing immense hardships. Whether I bring food to a friend going through a rough period or offer to spend a day with someone assisting with daily tasks, I want to make sure no one else has to feel the way I did during February. I want people to know that no matter what, someone is always looking out for them.