The last ring

Memorial services are one of the things we offer to areas of the hospital impacted by the death of an employee. “It provides a structured way to comfort the team and provide connection as they come together in grief,” said Minneapolis VA Chief Chaplain Danny Young. “We’ve done about five such services in the last year.”  

The memorial service was opened to all Minneapolis VA employees. Many of which had spent the last ten days walking by flowers and condolence cards that had poured into the medical center from the community.  

Feb. 3, our chapel was transformed into a space of healing and filled to its max capacity. There was another crowded viewing area on the medical center’s third floor, and 650 more employees huddled around computer screens to watch the live broadcast on TEAMS. The program, handed out at the door, noted their time together would include remarks from those who worked closest to Alex, a ceremonial nurse tribute, and songs.  

Minneapolis VA Medical Center Director Pat Kelly greeted the nearly 1,000 of his employees as the memorial service began. “This is an immeasurable loss to the Minneapolis VA and to all who had the privilege of working alongside him. Alex was a valued member of our team, recognized for his professionalism, dedication, and commitment to Veterans,” he said.  

Kelly introduced the newly formed Minneapolis VA Nurse Honor Guard. Eight nurses, dressed in traditional crisp white nursing uniforms, complete with a nursing cap and cape, solemnly entered and formed in a single line across the altar. The nurse on the far left held the American flag, the nurse on the far right, held the Red Cross flag.   

Faith Broman, Alex’s last supervisor, spoke from the heart, her voice trembling with emotion. “I witnessed Alex as an integral part of our ICU team.” She recalled hiring Alex three years ago as an intensive care unit (ICU) registered nurse. Since Jan. 24, 2026, her role had turned from ICU nurse manager to nurturer and protector of a shattered team.    

“I will never forget meeting him at the coffee pot just two days before he died,” she said. She offered him an extra four hours of overtime as coffee brewed in the breakroom, but he declined this time, as he had important things to do.   

“Those who know me know I like to give hugs. Hugs are my way to show others that I am physically and emotionally present in the moment and extend my heart to them,” said Faith.  “I struggle to remember if I gave Alex a hug that afternoon, which makes me incredibly sad and empty. It is my hope that this reflection may make up for that missed opportunity.”  

“I feel a bit guilty for referring to Alex as a friend…we didn’t socialize outside of work, our shifts were often opposite of each other, so our ships passed when they did,” shared Leann Wroblewski, a colleague in the ICU. “But something wonderful, strange and beautiful happens when you work in the capacity that we do, the kind of nursing that we do. We spend an enormous amount of time at our jobs, often more so than with family, significant others, and friends.” 

“We are blessed with the ability to see who our colleagues really are at their core, what they hold in the quiet of their souls. We have profound conversations with each other that often we don’t have the guts to have with those we love the most,” said Leann. 

The VA Nurse Honor Guard then performed a traditional tribute to a fallen nurse, beginning with the lighting of the Nightingale lamp candle. The lamp candle is a symbol of Florence Nightingale’s values such as comfort, kindness, gentleness, courage, and unwavering dedication to duty.  

The tribute culminated in a final roll call for Alex. “Alex J. Pretti, Registered Nurse license number 2486901. Report to duty,” said Leslie Dubois, the organizer of the new Minneapolis VA Nurse Honor Guard. It was answered by a single bell ring.  

The roll call was repeated. And again, a single ring of the bell.  

For a third and final time, slowly and poignantly she said, “Alex Jeffrey Pretti, Registered Nurse license number 2-4-8-6-9-0-1… is now released from duty.” Upon which a final ring was heard, and the lamp was blown out.  

Rev. Dr. Timothy McGregor worked with Alex on the unit. He shared the things he knew about Alex, and the surprises he had learned in the last ten days through the constant news stories that relentlessly reported aspects of his 37 years. “He was a singer. I didn’t know that. I’d have loved to hear that,” he said.  

McGregor also shared words that he’d read in the staff reflection room, a room that had been designated in response to the need for a space to gather heartbroken staff after learning that their co-worker had tragically died. “Bravery, history maker, advocate for the vulnerable, friend,” he read.  

“Alex, peacemaker, rest in peace, rest in power, rest eternally my brother.”  

As employees wiped tears and breathed heavily in the room that had grown warm due to the number of bodies crowded together, all wanting to be part of this, Jill Oliveri, a fellow VA employee, sang “I Chose Love.”   

The time together didn’t mend hearts or solve any problems; memorial services rarely do. But it made space for employees to tap into their own reservoir of spirituality to process grief collectively and find solace alongside VA chaplains.