We lost her. We lost your heart. We lost the chance to hear the beat of life pumping in the chest of the child you saved 4 years, 3 months and 3 days ago. A part of you will be buried with her, some place I may never know. While she lived, I could believe that someday you would come back to me (just like that movie, I could never watch). I wanted to hear your heart so desperately. I wanted to place the stethoscope on the chest of that child (whose name we just learned is Samantha) and hear the beat of your heart one more time. How I clung to the hope of that day opening up for us. How desperately I wanted to return the words you used to say to me, when you would lay your head across my chest… “I love you mother, I love you so much,” except now mother would be replaced with Brian. Now that possible dream, that goal, that chance blessing, is gone forever. We lost her. We came so close to finding her, yet fate intervened. I will never understand why; but this chapter in your beautiful life is closed forever.
When your aunt heard the news, she told me that your heart is in all of us, and will always remain in the hearts of your family even though it is beating no longer here on earth, that we did not lose your heart, it still remains in us. She was offering me consolation and comfort and I greedily received it; but my pain could not be eased. Not now, not for a while still.
I cried, Monica cried, Big Daddy George cried, your family and loved ones cried with us, for us, for you and for Samantha. It was as if we lost you all over again. It brought back those early days, the shock, the denial, the hope that I would get a call saying your heart had been able to be passed forward to another recipient. Maybe it was all a horrible mistake and Samantha was still alive, still living life through the gift of your heart… maybe… but no she was gone. She had died.
This time the grief stages went through us fast, all these emotions raging through us all once again. And the biggest question again to deal with. Why? I have been thinking a lot about this and have found only questions; not answers. After waiting all these years for the one letter I wanted so desperately to receive, to have only 3 days later, the scabbed, stitched and stretched scars across my own heart, ripped opened again, was almost unbearable. I had thought you would grow up with her; that you would live a long, long, life with her; as if your gentle spirit was moving alongside hers and together a destiny was formed.
Maybe I will hear from her mother, Connie… funny she also calls herself “mother!” I want to hear about Samantha, who she was, what she liked. I want to know Samantha, because you knew her for 4 years and you chose her, to hold onto your heart. I want to hear that she lived fully these last 4 years with you and that she enjoyed life. We cheered so happily when it was told to us that a 12 year little girl would get your heart! We said, “That is why you left us” … you knew she needed your heart and we knew you would be pleased. I want Connie to know that I wished your heart would have given Samantha more than 4-years.
I think being a donor family, is probably one of the hardest grief journey to walk. Everyone in our family, who has died before you, left nothing behind but memories. But you have left parts of yourself. Maybe as a donor family, we just don’t fully say goodbye to our loved ones. We love to believe and even cling to the joy that our loved one still remains alive, in some small way attached to the soul of those they gave life to, and to those whose lives they enhanced. I want to believe it too, and I have written it as such and have spoken it as such. It is that belief that has sustained me all these years.
They say a person will grieve for the amputation of a limb and I am left to wonder, are we the sum total of all our parts? Or are, our individual parts uniquely and equally the same as the whole? I grieved for your heart and the death of Samantha, as if it was you! Will I do it again, for your lungs, your kidneys, and your liver? Maybe now that I have experienced this great loss, I will be better prepared for it the next time. Maybe I just wanted to see with my own eyes, and hear with my own ears, and touch with my own hands, what you had done for another human being, before you left this world and this missed opportunity was a thunderbolt to my senses.
As a donor mother, who never saw you in death, never saw you take your last breath, never saw your heart stop beating it is something I need to realize and accept that such an opportunity may never present itself to me, no matter how much I desire it. You did die on November 20, 2009. Through the miracle of medicine, your organs which could no longer do anything for you, replaced organs no longer working for someone else. Maybe it is as simple as that?
I didn’t grieve, when your pancreas was taken for research? Why, because it was no longer a viable part of you. It left this world when you left it. But your 6 donated organs have stayed alive in my mind, as they have stayed alive in the bodies of others, and as such, in just as powerful a way, you remained alive to me also. I have heard it said from other donor families…”my child still lives;” and although I could never intellectually accept that premise, I too smiled and welcomed the thought as consolation for losing you.
I now think of Connie and what she is going through. Four years ago, life must have looked so bright and now it is must seem so bleak and sad. I ache for her, knowing how the loss of her child will forever alter her life and knowing nothing will ever be the same again. A “new normal” will be her future for holidays, for birthday’s, for every single day for the rest of her life. New anniversaries will be set in the calendar to remember and honor the passing of her beloved Samantha. She will try to remember the minutest things, try to capture and hold onto every memory she ever had of her, every word she ever spoke. Seeing her ghost dance across the hall and setting a place for her at meals, only to remember, no she is no longer here and never will be again. Not washing the last clothes she wore to keep the scent of her as long as she can. And then, thinking, someday I will need to pack up her world, but also thinking no NEVER, I will leave everything as she left it. And questioning why, why, why? Why did she get only 4 more years? For what purpose did she go through all this?
I used to say, I knew your heart kept beating because your Timex watch kept ticking. Although I have never wound it, or replaced its battery; and it sits in your shadow box, it still keeps time. I went to look at it when I got the news that Samantha had died, expecting to see it stopped? But it hadn’t. Then I thought, maybe your heart was passed forward and that is why it is still ticking, but I don’t think that is possible. So now why, what theory can I produce for the watch, still rotating it’s second hand across the face of your watch, still keeping the correct time, although I do not touch it? Maybe it is just simply telling me that time moves forward and nothing more.
We are trying to come to terms with the death of your heart recipient, but we still have our set-backs and the anger is still so deep right now. GOD only knows the purpose of this journey. GOD only knows the answers to the whys. Where do I go from here? What am I supposed to learn? I felt vacant and sad for many days, and then I just vacated myself. We are trying to heal. My heart is aching, another piece of it removed is now waiting to be healed over and have the bleeding stopped. Only time will give me that.
I do know I want to do something in memory of your beautiful heart. It has died and I want to have a service for your heart; as weird as that may sound to others. I need to find a way to say goodbye and accept it is as another part of you gone forever. How will I do it? I don’t know. What I do know is that flowers will be planted under your tree in Samantha’s memory. We may place a rock, craved with her name on it, within the flower bed. At the Donate Life Run/Walk we will have flying over your area, a pink heart balloon and we will all wear pink arm bands or something special on our persons, in her memory. And as we walk we will remember you and we will remember her as the keeper of your heart. Maybe these things are all I have to do to honor the gift you gave her; and the wonderful years it gave Samantha and her family. Maybe then I will find the way to heal and continue.
All my love my son, please say hello to Samantha and give her our love. Until we meet again, Mother
When your aunt heard the news, she told me that your heart is in all of us, and will always remain in the hearts of your family even though it is beating no longer here on earth, that we did not lose your heart, it still remains in us. She was offering me consolation and comfort and I greedily received it; but my pain could not be eased. Not now, not for a while still.
I cried, Monica cried, Big Daddy George cried, your family and loved ones cried with us, for us, for you and for Samantha. It was as if we lost you all over again. It brought back those early days, the shock, the denial, the hope that I would get a call saying your heart had been able to be passed forward to another recipient. Maybe it was all a horrible mistake and Samantha was still alive, still living life through the gift of your heart… maybe… but no she was gone. She had died.
This time the grief stages went through us fast, all these emotions raging through us all once again. And the biggest question again to deal with. Why? I have been thinking a lot about this and have found only questions; not answers. After waiting all these years for the one letter I wanted so desperately to receive, to have only 3 days later, the scabbed, stitched and stretched scars across my own heart, ripped opened again, was almost unbearable. I had thought you would grow up with her; that you would live a long, long, life with her; as if your gentle spirit was moving alongside hers and together a destiny was formed.
Maybe I will hear from her mother, Connie… funny she also calls herself “mother!” I want to hear about Samantha, who she was, what she liked. I want to know Samantha, because you knew her for 4 years and you chose her, to hold onto your heart. I want to hear that she lived fully these last 4 years with you and that she enjoyed life. We cheered so happily when it was told to us that a 12 year little girl would get your heart! We said, “That is why you left us” … you knew she needed your heart and we knew you would be pleased. I want Connie to know that I wished your heart would have given Samantha more than 4-years.
I think being a donor family, is probably one of the hardest grief journey to walk. Everyone in our family, who has died before you, left nothing behind but memories. But you have left parts of yourself. Maybe as a donor family, we just don’t fully say goodbye to our loved ones. We love to believe and even cling to the joy that our loved one still remains alive, in some small way attached to the soul of those they gave life to, and to those whose lives they enhanced. I want to believe it too, and I have written it as such and have spoken it as such. It is that belief that has sustained me all these years.
They say a person will grieve for the amputation of a limb and I am left to wonder, are we the sum total of all our parts? Or are, our individual parts uniquely and equally the same as the whole? I grieved for your heart and the death of Samantha, as if it was you! Will I do it again, for your lungs, your kidneys, and your liver? Maybe now that I have experienced this great loss, I will be better prepared for it the next time. Maybe I just wanted to see with my own eyes, and hear with my own ears, and touch with my own hands, what you had done for another human being, before you left this world and this missed opportunity was a thunderbolt to my senses.
As a donor mother, who never saw you in death, never saw you take your last breath, never saw your heart stop beating it is something I need to realize and accept that such an opportunity may never present itself to me, no matter how much I desire it. You did die on November 20, 2009. Through the miracle of medicine, your organs which could no longer do anything for you, replaced organs no longer working for someone else. Maybe it is as simple as that?
I didn’t grieve, when your pancreas was taken for research? Why, because it was no longer a viable part of you. It left this world when you left it. But your 6 donated organs have stayed alive in my mind, as they have stayed alive in the bodies of others, and as such, in just as powerful a way, you remained alive to me also. I have heard it said from other donor families…”my child still lives;” and although I could never intellectually accept that premise, I too smiled and welcomed the thought as consolation for losing you.
I now think of Connie and what she is going through. Four years ago, life must have looked so bright and now it is must seem so bleak and sad. I ache for her, knowing how the loss of her child will forever alter her life and knowing nothing will ever be the same again. A “new normal” will be her future for holidays, for birthday’s, for every single day for the rest of her life. New anniversaries will be set in the calendar to remember and honor the passing of her beloved Samantha. She will try to remember the minutest things, try to capture and hold onto every memory she ever had of her, every word she ever spoke. Seeing her ghost dance across the hall and setting a place for her at meals, only to remember, no she is no longer here and never will be again. Not washing the last clothes she wore to keep the scent of her as long as she can. And then, thinking, someday I will need to pack up her world, but also thinking no NEVER, I will leave everything as she left it. And questioning why, why, why? Why did she get only 4 more years? For what purpose did she go through all this?
I used to say, I knew your heart kept beating because your Timex watch kept ticking. Although I have never wound it, or replaced its battery; and it sits in your shadow box, it still keeps time. I went to look at it when I got the news that Samantha had died, expecting to see it stopped? But it hadn’t. Then I thought, maybe your heart was passed forward and that is why it is still ticking, but I don’t think that is possible. So now why, what theory can I produce for the watch, still rotating it’s second hand across the face of your watch, still keeping the correct time, although I do not touch it? Maybe it is just simply telling me that time moves forward and nothing more.
We are trying to come to terms with the death of your heart recipient, but we still have our set-backs and the anger is still so deep right now. GOD only knows the purpose of this journey. GOD only knows the answers to the whys. Where do I go from here? What am I supposed to learn? I felt vacant and sad for many days, and then I just vacated myself. We are trying to heal. My heart is aching, another piece of it removed is now waiting to be healed over and have the bleeding stopped. Only time will give me that.
I do know I want to do something in memory of your beautiful heart. It has died and I want to have a service for your heart; as weird as that may sound to others. I need to find a way to say goodbye and accept it is as another part of you gone forever. How will I do it? I don’t know. What I do know is that flowers will be planted under your tree in Samantha’s memory. We may place a rock, craved with her name on it, within the flower bed. At the Donate Life Run/Walk we will have flying over your area, a pink heart balloon and we will all wear pink arm bands or something special on our persons, in her memory. And as we walk we will remember you and we will remember her as the keeper of your heart. Maybe these things are all I have to do to honor the gift you gave her; and the wonderful years it gave Samantha and her family. Maybe then I will find the way to heal and continue.
All my love my son, please say hello to Samantha and give her our love. Until we meet again, Mother
RSS Feed
