The hardest day of my life was the day I met Maddie. After six weeks of fear and hope, my dad’s fight against Covid had come to an end. Due to protocol, only my mom could be with him in the room when he passed. I stood, 20 weeks pregnant with my son, my father’s first grandchild, outside the glass doors and watched. My brother had to walk away, and I sent my husband to be with him. After, my brother and I were allowed to enter the room to say our last goodbye. Maddie was with us as we donned in the ante room, and she paused before we went in and fought back tears as she told us how much she liked our dad, and how sorry she was. She could barely get the words out. I used to talk to my dad every day. He was, and is, the most influential person in my life. To lose him so horrifically continues to haunt me. It was torture to know he was worsening the six weeks in the hospital, and that my family and I could not be there with him. If he was afraid, we could not be there to comfort him. We could not take away the pain, fear, or loneliness. We could not talk to him, or hold his hand. The hardest day of my life was the day I met Maddie. I wish our paths had never crossed. But I am thankful for the care and respect that she gave my dad. I have some peace knowing that she was with him when we could not be. As a healthcare worker myself, I know being a nurse is difficult on its own, and that makes the role Maddie took, to truly care for someone personally, with such compassion and kindness, much more difficult. Our story is not unique, which makes Maddie’s work more intense than most people can imagine. I am thankful for her sacrifice. From me and my dad - thank you, Maddie.