I have written before about the medical staff at St Vincent's Hospital. The interaction we had with them was very encouraging and positive through most of our stay. The only real times that things became discouraging were toward the end, when things began to look as though he would not make it.

The issue for the nurses became how to tell us honestly that it did not look good. We had spent 6 weeks side by side with them. We had laughed, and cried together and drawn close to some of them. You cannot walk a journey like that and not be emotionally attached. The nursing staff blessed us in a huge way.

I remember when a couple of our key nurses looked me in the face and said, "He has done so well, but it just does not look good, I don't think he is going to make it."

Can you imagine having to say those words to anyone? I cannot. They did it with such grace, and such love that I knew they were aware of something I did not believe was ever going to happen.

Somehow, when the doctors had told us this, it was easy to be angry with them. It was easy to say they just don't know, they are only reading the science of this whole thing, they don't know what God can do. Obviously, that was not always true, but for some reason, it was just easier to be mad at the doctors.

The nurses spent themselves hour after hour, day after day, week after week. They had struggles between them on who got to take care of BJ. We never saw anything unruly, but we knew they vied for his room. I must say that is very hard for me to understand. He was so ill, you would think they would want to be far away, in a room where the emotional toll was a little easier.

That is why I have so much love and respect for them. Each and every one of them. They are called to this role, and they embrace it as one who knew they just might make a difference. And they did.

They may not think so, but they changed my life. The level of compassion extended to us through them was so unbelievable. One or two of them had left instructions that if he passed, they were to be called immediately. I imagine it was more like, "if it looks like he is going, call me right away."

In the wee hours of Monday morning, September 26 at just before 3am, he went home... and after some private time as a family, the room filled with nurses who wept just as hard as we did. Some who were working, and some who came because of his passing. They loved us through the most traumatic moments of our lives. I shall never forget them for doing so.

They emptied the room, in what seemed like 2 seconds, of all the cumbersome paraphanalia that kept us from being able to love on him for the previous 6 weeks. They offered to allow us up onto his bed to lay beside him and love him one last time. Had they not worked as hard as they did for the previous weeks, they still would have earned my respect in those closing moments.

I remember each face that moved forward to embrace us, and offer their apologies for not being able to do more. Ladies, you did all you could. There was nothing left to do, but love us through... and you did. I love you for it. Let me say YOU ARE MY HEROES!!!

Deanna, Lauren and Whitney, when you eat dinner with them tonight, let them know how much I love them, and miss them.

dad