To my patient

I am so sorry.

I'm sorry that your death was as chaotic as your life.

I'm sorry that despite all of our efforts, your parents made life miserable for you up till your last breath.

I'm sorry that it all went down the way it did last night.

I'm sorry that you felt like your mom was "finally being a mom" simply because she was present.

I'm sorry that your family continued to steal your medications.

I'm sorry you died last night without anything for pain, because of their decisions.

I'm sorry you didn't have anything for pain because I feel like somehow, being the destroyer of your narcotics, makes me to blame as well.

I'm sorry that we weren't there.

I'm sorry that the law wouldn't let us go later.

I'm sorry you died there, you told me you didn't want to be there.

I'm sorry you were younger then me.

I'm sorry you never really knew what a mom was supposed to be about.

I'm sorry your dad was as he is.

I'm sorry that the entire system failed you from the day you were born until this morning, the day you died.

I'm sorry that for the first time in my life, it was your death that made me believe there are some people who really cannot be helped.

I'm sorry that it will take me a few days to sort through this and know we did make your life better.

I'm sorry all we could offer were bandages for physical wounds, hands to check you over, and an ear to hear only a piece of who you were.

Most of all, I'm sorry that you were never, ever, ever, given a chance to discover who you were.

Really.

I am so very sorry.