You don’t know what it’s like tobe a registered nurse standing at a patients' bedside witnessing their last exhale. Feeling their rapid and thready pulse fade out. Holding their hand, escorting them as they slide quietly into death. Their physical body gently grays and their senses dim. Perhaps the jaw slackens. As miraculous as birth, this profound encounter of their end. We nurses lean in to comfort the dying then cry with the family. We pray in every faith or none. We wash the body and place it in a shroud. Then, before the morgue gurney disappears from sight we hustle to the living who are ringing their call bell for our attention. This is our calling.