I'm So Sorry

I do a variety of things in my job, but some weeks it seems like mostly I tell people how sorry I am.    I sat with a frightened man who was transferred to our hospice for a long time one week, while we waited for his wife to arrive.  His breath was labored from the stress of the transfer and the progression of his disease, but mostly from fear, and the effort of breathing robbed him of his speech.  He gripped my hand tightly and would not let go. I stayed until he calmed and fell asleep and then, when he opened his eyes again, I told him I would go check to see where she was.    It turned out that she was out in the living room, laughing with friends, and when I said that he was waiting to see her, she told me that he'd be fine, she was in no hurry to join him.     So I returned to his room, sat and comforted him as best I could until he drifted off again. And the next morning, when she came back and learned that he was dead, I comforted her.    I am so very sorry.