🕯 Some People Stay With Us Even After They Leave

There are some patients
I don’t remember at all.

I charted their vitals.
Passed their meds.
Maybe even held their hand.

And then…
life moved forward.
Another shift. Another name. Another bed.

But then there are the others.
The ones I still carry.
Not loudly.
Not painfully.
Just... there.

In the quiet folds of memory.
Like a page gently dog-eared
in a story I didn’t get to finish.

A young mom who made me laugh during the night shift,
even though we both knew she was dying.
An elderly man who whispered “thank you”
every single time I fluffed his pillow.
The teenager who called me "Nurse Lady"
and gave me a drawing before surgery.

I still have it.
It’s still pinned to my fridge.
I don’t know why I kept it. But I did.

We don’t talk about it much —
maybe because we’re trained to steel ourselves,
to reset fast and focus on the next patient.
And we do.
But that doesn’t mean we forget.

Sometimes it hits me out of nowhere.
A smell.
A piece of music.
A chart note with the same diagnosis.
Or a new patient with the same last name.

And suddenly, they’re there again.
The ones who left an imprint.
Not just the losses — but the ones who made us laugh.
The ones who taught us something.
The ones who reminded us why we chose this job in the first place.

And this week —
as the candles are lit,
as names are whispered at altars,
as memories float gently to the surface —
I let myself feel it.

The gratitude.
The grief.
The honor
of having known them at all.

Not all goodbyes fade.
And maybe they’re not meant to.

P.S.
Do you carry a patient in your heart?
Someone who changed you — even if just for a moment?

You’re not alone in carrying them
Tell us their story — or just say their name.
Drop it in the comments —
or email us at stories@pagingapparel.com

f you’d like us to share it on the blog.
We’re happy to post it anonymously.

Let’s make space for nurses to remember, reflect, and feel seen.
Even in the quiet.

— Still Standing in Crocs