Your son is dead. How will you remember me?
I introduced myself to the family sitting anxiously in the private room away from the chaotic symphony of beeping monitors in the main ER. When I opened the door, four pairs of bewildered eyes landed squarely and intensely on me. I wanted to look away so as not to betray my own emotions but instead stepped in and introduced myself again — one by one making eye contact. After a …
Your son is dead. How will you remember me?



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