In the last couple of years, the true meaning of nursing has become somewhat of a blur. It has become a constant state of "go." No lunches, no breaks, and often no time to hydrate or even use the restroom. We become lost in the day-to-day, often not stopping to think nor stopping to feel, numb to the feeling of others, of patients, and of the families of these patients. It isn't until you witness an act of kindness, whether it be empathy, sympathy, or just an expression of care by holding someone's hand or providing that much-needed hug, that you are reminded to stop and breathe and to stop and feel. As we get lost in what we do, we do not often recognize or realize that we are providing these much-needed therapeutic moments. Today, I witnessed just that. I met the daughter of one of our ICU patients earlier this month. She was struggling with her mother's condition, struggling with knowing that her last shred of hope was fading and that she would likely have to let go of her mother. Each day she would stop by my office and give me an update. As sad as the story became, I looked forward to those updates, as I soon realized I became an outlet for her to express her fears. Fast forward to today. The decision had been made that withdrawal of care was necessary, as her mother had been declared brain dead. The daughter had asked if I could be there. My charge nurse Tina also offered to be present and assist with the termination of care. Little did I know that this moment, a moment that could be one of the worst moments that any daughter could ever have to experience, would also wind up being one of the most heartfelt moments I have experienced since the pandemic mode hit. As Tina shut down the ventilator and turned off the oxygen that was sustaining the mother's life, her daughter instantly collapsed to the floor, tears flooding her face crying out for her mother in a child-like fashion as if begging her to just breathe. The miracle we all hoped we would experience did not occur. As I turned my head to look towards this family member, tears flooded my eyes as feelings of losing my mother just one short year ago overtook me; I looked to the floor, my heart aching for this woman as I knew her pain. As I looked in her direction, something struck me. She was not on the floor alone. Tina, the charge nurse, had crawled onto the floor next to her, holding her and rubbing her back as she mourned the loss of her mother. And she sat there, continuing to console this family member, a stranger to her, someone she had just met. Yet it did not matter that she had just met her. What mattered to Tina was that she was there for this family member during a very difficult time. This touched me beyond words. Despite what nursing has experienced during this pandemic and how difficult it has been to manage, Tina did not forget why she became a nurse. In fact, she exemplified why all of us are nurses and why we all do what we do. Tina did not have to crawl on the floor. She did so because her heart is kind, and it was the right thing to do to comfort the family member of our patient. This family member thanked us as she was leaving, even though this was one of the hardest moments in her life. I will always remember this case, not because I created a relationship with the family, but because I witnessed the caring and kindness of a nurse who has not forgotten what nursing is meant to be and what it takes to provide patient-centered care and including the family through all transitions of care and life. Tina cried with that family as if it were her own. This is a true testament of nursing and a proud, impactful moment for a leader to watch and witness.