A subject I understand more than I can put into words. It's a duty I have had. A 17 year girl died of an overdose. It was my responsibility to tell the mother, father, pastor, brothers, sister. They were there all night in the tiny, chilly waiting room, after notified their comatose child was brought in.<p>Some kind of party had been going on when mom and dad were out for the evening. The young woman and assorted friends doing drugs. She passed out, it was hours before anyone thought to check out how she was.<p>I called in all the docs there were to call. We tried every trick there was known to try. Then heart rate fell to zero. All the effort came to nothing. Everyone was quiet, mumbled their sorrow, and slipped out the private staff access door. That is everyone but me.<p>That morning was about the hardest I ever faced, even in the decades since. Sure others have died on my watch, one cause or another. But that time was different. I knew I had to say it, give the worst possible news, the unnecessary death of a child, to grieving parents. I truly did not know how such a thing can be said, what phrasing is best, what stings the least?<p>I don't know how, but summoning the courage I walked out to where they were sitting. I was nearly in a trance, not only from lack of sleep, but stunned by the magnitude of what I had to speak. And I said what happened, the child passed away, never awakened despite the heroic efforts of so many healers sweating all at once.<p>I sat there for a moment, no more to say, listened to the mournful sobs. Though I felt a failure, more than anything I had no comfort to provide. They didn't find fault, they were not angry that we could not do more.<p>Seriously, a moment too stark, too profound to ever forget nor would I want to relinquish it. No repeat is necessary, the lesson deeply embedded, the value of life, the meaning of words, the merit of a healer's human voice, these are all worth keeping.