He had asked to talk to us away from the hospice room where his wife was sleeping.

The trainee specialist and I led him to the patient lounge room down the corridor.

We all sat down.

We talked about how his wife was dying, how he was actively supporting everyone else in their life. Especially their three teenaged children, who were barely coping with the pending loss of their mother. He said that he had to be strong, that he would get them all through it…

The floodgate of his face broke, he curled up in pain, and the torrent of tears was released. The trainee reached for the box of tissues, and for his shoulder, and started to speak.

I subtly raised my hand to stop her from saying anything.