For most of my life, I saw my father as the ultimate provider; he worked long hours as a doctor and took pride in that he never missed a day of work. While we knew he loved us, he would rarely, if ever, say the words I love you." But after an aneurysm, a helicopter ride to the hospital, and hours of surgery gave him a new perspective on life, I've noticed a change in him. His chances of survival were slim " at least that's what I assumed it meant when my brother, who's also a doctor, said: "This doesn't look good." He said: "I'm sorry. It's really hard to watch people you love when they are in pain." These words " from my father who showed little emotion and rarely said "I love you" " felt surreal. I wondered how he could be so selfless, worrying about others while he was in great pain. At that moment, I felt a deep affection for him. In the past, he was quick to state his opinion on any given topic; now I see him listening more, thinking before he shares his perspective. When I talk to him on the phone, his voice is softer, and before we hang up, he says, "I love you." Witnessing my father become more open has reminded me that I still have room to grow. I believe that my father and I both learned something that day. He learned to say "I love you," and I learned that even when people present themselves as impervious, it doesn't mean they're not feeling emotions. We all just have different ways of expressing them.