An Open Letter

To the family of the 6 month old I did CPR on 19 years ago:

   I want you to know that I remember your son. I remember his wispy blond hair, what little there was on his soft head. I remember his tiny body, helpless and still. I remember the frantic efforts of the paramedics and my crew to reverse what we knew was irreversible. He had been down too long and was already gone. But we wanted so badly for that not to be true.
   I am sorry I did not cry for your son then. I was wounded, horrified, and struck by sadness. But I never cried. I wondered why I didn't. I felt like I should but it didn't come.
Up until tonight I never shed a tear for him. I have thought of him, and you, hundreds of times since then. Even after my own children were born I would think of him with sorrow, but a blank sorrow. I am sorry that it has taken me this long to fully share your grief. My heart aches for you and what you lost, and I can only say that in 20 years he has never left my memory, and my heart ached with every thought I had of him.
   I never met you, never knew your names, but I hope you know you are not alone.....even after all this time.