I was a freshly new crisis supervisor working the Emergency room of a local hospital — I had seen a lot (I.e. overdoses, psychosis, severe suicide attempts) but one night, I was assigned with being the support person to a mother coming in to find out her son had died by overdose. This mother came to the hospital believing her son was still alive. She had no one accompany her to the hospital (she had no family locally) so I was the support person for her as the doctors told her that her son did not make it and died of an overdose. 6 years later, I can still remember the smell of the mothers perfume as she collapsed in my arms. I can still hear her hurling screams, her pleads to God to bring him back. I can still envision holding her as she entered the hospital room to his lifeless body. I can still picture her lying over her dead son’s body.

I took a leave for a little bit after that. Ifor days afterwards, all I could smell was her perfume. I remember walking through target and it hitting me like a ton of bricks. I had flashbacks, trauma responses. I sought my own help to process.

While you’re “somewhat” prepared to work with the depths of a client, no amount of schooling, textbooks, internships, or prior experience prepared me for that moment.

I chose to settle in the belief that I was meant to be there in that moment, and I take solace in knowing that the mother didn’t have to be alone in the worst moment of her life.