On a day in January where the temperature was irrelevant because none of us remember it, we gathered to stand by a young undocumented couple who had just experienced the loss of their precious baby who was in our care at Big Bend Hospice. Through acts of kindness and generosity of angels disguised as strangers, our volunteer department was able to support this family by meeting the mother’s physical, emotional, psychosocial, spiritual needs. While her child was in our care, she was our focus as the “patient caregiver.” She is strong and resilient and has escaped the clutches of evil and will continue to. But on this day, we came together as a family chosen by the Universe to mourn the precious life that was this child. We grew to love this child and family. Because of language barriers, a coworker and I coordinated a funeral and graveside service with the help of a beloved music therapist who is a young father, her faithful volunteer who stood by the mother’s side, the nurse who is famous for her extraordinary care of children and youth in hospice, and we brought words from a dear reverend who knew what would need to be said by us to translate in Spanish. But on this day, we stood together broken. In our tears, was a compassion and mutual understanding that hospice work is incredibly difficult but to be there for this family bonded us in ways we will never forget. Love and death permeate language barriers, legislation, or failed promises and cure. Through our act of kindness to show up when others wouldn’t, we grew in our love.