I opened social media today and saw images of the nurse colleagues of Andrew Pretti taking a moment of silence in his honor. I wasn’t prepared for how hard that would hit. wham…immediately in tears my whole body just felt hit with grief, of oneness as a nurses then helplessness and anger due to the senselessness of what took place.
I am grieving the loss of a fellow nurse.
Not a stranger, another helper! Someone who chose a life of care, presence, and protection of others. Someone who stood on the same side of suffering that I do.
Seeing a nurse fall at the hands of injustice, cruelty, and inhumanity cuts differently. It feels personal. It feels like a wound to the entire body of helpers.
The grief is tangible.
It sits heavy in my chest because it represents something I refuse to accept…
I refuse to accept a world where violence is justified, where cruelty is explained away, where human life is treated as expendable. I refuse to accept systems that harm instead of protect, that silences instead of listens and sees.
As nurses, we are trained to preserve life, de-escalate, advocate and to show up in the worst moments to be brave for others and show compassion. Watching a fellow nurse be lost to injustice feels like a betrayal of everything we stand for.
This grief is tangled with fear.
Fear over what I am witnessing. Fear that systems I once trusted feel like they are breaking. Fear that the values of this country (and my profession) are being trampled in real time.
This grief feel like anger…sharp and overwhelming.
I grew up believing that faith calls us to calm, but even Christ flipped a table when injustice demanded it.
Growing up my parents didn’t allow us to use the word hate, it was considered dangerous…something that could harden a heart. We were taught to choose our words carefully, because words don’t just express what we feel, they shape actions and who we become. I’ve carried that lesson with me my whole life.
But right now, I have hate…
I hate cruelty and I feel moral anguish over seeing what is happening to others and a refusal to coexist quietly with this violence knowing silence makes me complicit.
My faith tells me that God is near to the brokenhearted. That He sees every life as sacred. That violence and dehumanization were never part of the design. I can only imagine the grief of a God who created humanity for love, watching His children harm one another in the name of power (but we know is cowardice)!
That thought doesn’t make me feel righteous.
It makes me feel responsible.
So I will not be silent.
Not because I have all the answers or am fearless but because helpers don’t look away when harm is done. We don’t call injustice “unfortunate” and move on. We pause, grieve, and speak up! We take a STAND!
I stand in grief for a fallen nurse.
I stand in grief for our country.
I stand in grief form those who still cannot see the truth.
And I stand against cruelty and inhumanity.
I’m sad and I’m angry… and while I may not flip a table literally, I will flip the status quo, advocating for justice, standing with fellow helpers, and refusing silence.
