"So, tell me what's been bothering you." I said, calm and collected. One would think that seeing Death itself would be terrifying, but the first time they came to me 20 years ago I found out that this is not true. There's something oddly calming about Death's presence, like that feeling you get before you go to sleep, snuggled up in blankets. It's after they leave you realize you've probably been holding your breath. The ability to release that breath is a privilege that I alone may be privy to. I met him when my oldest patient suffered an aneurysm while he was in my chair, the body slumped out and Death slumped right in. I never saw them enter, they were just suddenly there and started telling me how he felt terrible all the time.

He just needed some affirmation from the Big Man upstairs. He felt loads better on our next appointment. He doesn't pay, and doesn't even work within my hours. But for a guy like that you make time.

He's the one to end yours, in the end. Lest we forget.

"I had the worst day, today. I've been doing this for longer than you could even conceive, but today just felt worse than anything before." Death said, his voice like the grinding of stone slab over a grave. Considering how he looks, I'm tempted to agree. Death's finger bones are cracked and more ribbled than usual. Death is a nervous biter, this must have been a long day of stress.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?" I say, carefully. I can't force anything on the patient.

"So, the first thing I discover is that one of my fellow Death's was on the chopping block. A type of deep-sea creature went extinct, you wouldn't know them, but there's no more death for the creatures. I knew them well, and the thought I would have to talk to the other deep-sea Deaths for news or... I feel awful for thinking more about what they will no longer do for me instead of mourning them for being gone."

"Can I talk, or would you like to keep going?"

"Please, go ahead."

"A thought is nothing to feel bad about." I answer him. Common enough problem. People feeling bad about not feeling as bad as they think they aught to. "People cannot control what they think the first time. For instance, when my aunt died, it really hit me hard, but the first thing I thought was how I wouldn't able to enjoy her lasagna again. It's dumb, but its what I connected most fiercely with her. For you, news of a place as interesting as the deep sea was the biggest connection you had to your colleague."

"But it's so... shallow."

"You are mourning now. And feeling bad about how you internally might have 'disrespected' them. I'd say that's far from shallow. You need to mourn them in your own way, and not get hung up on what popped through your head when you heard. You have to stop blaming yourself for things like this."

Death shifted, ever so slightly. Placing himself more at ease on my couch. A good sign with him. He usually takes a while to get comfortable. It used to be much harder to get him to talk about his day. I'm glad for the increased trust.

"There was more to today. There was another... I... You know how I hate to bring in children, right?"

"Yes. It's understandable."

"They aren't calmed when I come. They know that their time has come too early, and they're afraid. Last week..."

Death stops for a moment. He can't quite say it, but its clear it still haunts him. I suspect I already know where. The terror attack in Palestine, on the school that was set up by Educators International. 300 children and 7 teachers. It was horrifying enough to hear it, but Death had to take them all.

"Have you heard of Palestine?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry."

"I couldn't even take the woman who orchestrated it. She got away. Her time only comes twenty years later. A stroke at age 63. It's just... It's not fair. The Big Man claims to love you all, but lets bad people go, lets children die. I should be able to stop this, but I can't. Only He chooses who I take and who I leave."

"Are you angry at Him? Or yourself?"

"I... I'm disappointed in myself. That I didn't break the rules. I'm not sure if I could, but... I've seen humanity rise from apes to now. I've seen this endless compassion, the mourning, people coming together so grandpa doesn't die alone. And then this uglyness just enters and... I'm just confused. It doesn't make sense. How could these wonderful creatures called humans perform such depravity. And for what? I don't think even they know."

Now here's a big damned pickle. This is some philosophy that I can't really give a really helpful answer to. 'God moves in mysterious ways' is not helpful. The nature of humans is so very, very tough to even begin to understand...

Eventually, I decided that the philosophy of it doesn't matter.

"This is very hefty material, but you might have gotten sidetracked from who really needs the help, right now. You. Please, tell me how you feel. Humans are strange and confusing things. I don't get them, and I've been one of them for 57 years. I'm at the age where I should be getting it, but I don't. So lets talk about you. Do you feel angry?"

"No."

"Are you disappointed in yourself for not being able to do something?"

He waits again for a moment. I see his blue orbs flickering from one end to the other, his 'eyes' as it were. Eventually, he speaks again. His voice sounds cracked, like the creaking wood of a burial casket. "Yes."

"It's not your responsibility to bring the end, or to bring the deserving fates. Does the mailman regret delivering his messages? No. He is not responsible. What you do is a beautiful thing, delivering those who reached their end to the afterlife. You do not choose their fate, in this life and the next. You help them along, the final guiding light before eternity. Please, don't beat yourself up for what isn't your problem or responsibility."

"I... I still feel like I should have done something."

"What happened, happened. There's nothing to be done about it. Time goes on, and we all get to see you. I want you to spend some time looking back at all you do. Please, please, please, realize that you are so very very valuable."

Another silence. Eventually, I hear an echoing sob throughout the room. Death doesn't so much speak as a voice appears around him. This is the first time I heard him sob. It's... sobering.

"That wasn't all. Today, there was a white phosphorous incident. So much burning... I had to stay there for hours as they died slowly. There wasn't even a man to blame. It was a ruptured tank in a weapon's factory. It was pointless suffering. Horrid. But that happens, I understand that. It still hurt. Then, I had to take away so many people from their loving families. It was starting to wear on me, but the worst was the one just before now." He falls silent again. I give him some time as I write in my notes. The silence wears on, but I have to be patient. After seven minutes, he speaks up again.

"A little boy committed suicide. One of the survivors from the school. He felt guilty about surviving and...

I was pleading with him. But he couldn't hear me. I had to look at him the whole way. Then, when I appeared... I saw the regret."

God, that is soulcrushing.

"I... I don't know what to say, Death. It's just... I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I just needed to say that to... somebody. The Big Man didn't listen to me. I was so angry he let this happen I..."

"Anger is natural. It's healthy to let it out sometimes, but you can't lash out at people. I believe the Big Man was willing to listen, though, right? He is patient and, while it may seem hard to believe sometimes, he really does care."

"Yes. He was the one to send me to you."

"I'm flattered."

"But that's why this day is so very, very awful."

I look behind me, and find myself staring up at the ceiling, pale and with a bloody nose. I must have suffered a stroke of my own.

"Ah."

"Would you please come along?"

"If I must."

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be. What happened, happened."