A Thin Line.

A Thin Line.

The complete and utter heartbreak from hearing “I am sorry your loved one has passed,” the complete and utter excitement from hearing “We have a kidney for you.” The sorrow and pain of hearing “We did all we could do, but we could not save your child,” the joy and heart lifting feeling of hearing “Please get to the hospital there is a heart on it’s way.” The ying and yang, the lowest of lows and the highest of highs, someones best day and someones worst. One life ends and one life begins anew. These are just a few of the polar opposites when someone passes away and someone else gets to live on. When your heart is breaking and someone else’s heart is full of hope for the future. There is no greater pain than to say goodbye to a child, a mom, a dad, a brother, sister or spouse. There is no lonely like the lonely when you walk through the door of your home, the same door your loved one walked out of for the last time. William Shakespeare said “The purpose of life is not to find your gift, but to give it away.” There is no truer statement when it comes to organ donation. We are given this life, these bodies are a gift. We are supposed to take care of them, treat them as if they where temples, but the abuse we put them through is sometimes detrimental. Once a kidney stops working, a liver quits functioning, the heart starts deteriorating, the lungs have no capacity, or numerous other organs begin to decline, we look to organ donation. The field of donation has come so far in the last ten years, the ability to transplant almost any organ has become a reality. But for this to happen someone has to die, someones son, daughter, mother or father has to lose their life for another to live. As many of you already know Lindsay was an organ donor. This was her own conscious choice at he age of sixteen. Her decision to save lives through donation fit right in with her dream of becoming a surgeon. So many times I have asked myself “Why her? Why did Lindsay have to pass for someone else to live?” The question will never be answered while I walk this earth. I will only get the answer when I leave this world and stand before God. The emotion felt when your loved one passes and you know someone else will live is virtually unexplainable. The immediate feeling of numbness passing through your body and you feel helpless, you feel as if your heart and soul has died right along with your loved one. At that point, the fact that someone else will live, someone else’s life will be extended does not matter to you, in fact it almost brings you to anger.  I had to come to realization that it was not the recipients fault that Lindsay passed away, they did not wish for her to have an accident that Sunday afternoon in August of 2016. I have only been on this side of organ donation, I only know the hurt and the pain of loss. I do not know the joy and elation of getting that phone call telling the recipient to get to the hospital as soon as they can. I personally know one of the recipients of Lindsay’s donations. She is a wife and a mother of two. I work everyday with her husband and her son. She was in almost complete kidney failure and Lindsay was able to save her life and give her many more years to spend with her family. Even knowing the recipient does not make the loss any easier, it does not make the pain any less. I had taken quite a bit of time off from work after Lindsay passed away and when the time was drawing near for me to return there was one thing I had to do. I had to see her and her husband, I did not want the first time I saw her husband to be at work. I did not know how I would react. Would I break down and cry, would I want to punch him, would I be happy for him, would I hold some sort of resentment for his gain and my loss? We did meet, and the first thing she said was “Lindsay is right here” as she  patted her lower abdomen. When I saw the smile on her face and the tears running down her checks all of my anxiety, all of my fears, where gone. We had an amazing visit and we talked about her surgery and of course we talked about Lindsay. You could see in her eyes the pain she felt for us but in her voice you could hear the appreciation for the sacrifice made. I often wonder if the other recipients that received Lindsay’s donations ever think about our family, if they ever think about the fact that a seventeen year old young lady had to die for them to carry on. Do they ever think about who she was, what she had accomplished, or where she was headed in this life. 

I asked Jeanne Connolly, who works for Carolina Donor Services, and has become a good friend to our family, to send me a statement concerning both sides of this life altering time. This is what she sent to me, “From what I have been a part of with the recipient families that resonates over and over again is that while sometimes writing or receiving a letter to the donor/recipient families can be difficult because they know that their loved one had died which allowed them to live, which is a struggle sometimes. When a donor recipient family meeting happens it brings a sense of knowing that the decision to donate has given both sides a bond that brings a sense of peace and understanding. One donors mother who met her son’s heart recipient said there  was finally a sense of calm and knowing that her son still lived on. As she listened to his heartbeat in the recipients chest it was what she had needed to get that peace. Every year on Mothers day the recipient sends flowers to his donor mom and they have established an ongoing relationship. In his words: The best tribute I can give to my Donor and his family is to live.

It is a fine line we walk as the survivors of a donor, a fine line between hurt and happiness, between loss and living, between grief and gratitude. This fine line often seems to grow even thinner on days that we truly miss our loved ones. On days we know that someone, somewhere is walking, talking and breathing. but they are not.  It is a fine line we will walk for the remainder of our lives, but knowing that the best tribute a recipient can give to their donor and family is to live does make the line a little broader.

 

 

The pain is still the same…

The pain is still the same…

As I sit in the lanai of my home looking out over the water and watching the sunrise I am thinking of the past two days and the people that have crossed my path. It is amazing how some days you can randomly meet people that touch your life and remind you that there is a purpose to the life you are living. On Friday, I had the honor of meeting a woman, that just two weeks earlier, lost her son. We meet through a vendor at our monthly market. The vendor approached myself and Kelli and told us about this women’s loss. Once she pointed her out I was hesitant to approach her because I know what she was feeling, I know the feeling of parental grief and all the pain that comes with it. I know what it is like to be in the middle of a hundreds of people and feel so alone. I know that sometimes you just want to be left alone and you don’t want to talk about your loss. After Kelli went up to her and she began talking, I also walked up to her and just stood there and listened for a moment. I heard that she was out with two of her friends and it was the first time she had left her home. I heard the pain and sorrow in her voice, a sound I so vividly remember. I was introduced to this lady and she began to tell me about her son, thirty three years old, and I told her about Lindsay. They were both donors and through their selflessness, they both saved lives. She had tears in her eyes as her sons death was still very fresh in her heart. I gave her a big hug and told her, “I have been right where you are today Sweetie. No matter the age the pain is still the same. We have just meet but now we are connected for life.” I continued to tell her even though we had just met,  if she ever needed me or just wanted to talk all she had to do was reach out. She asked if I knew of a group that she could attend, a support group of some type that would help her get through this very early days of grief. I highly recommended the group Compassionate Friends. I told her how much this group had help Lindsay’s mom. The support, the fellowship and the comradery they give truly helped, and still helps, Kellie through each day. She asked her friends to please remember and help her follow up on going to a meeting. As we parted ways I gave her one more hug and whispered in her ear, “Ma’am, time will ease the pain, but the hurt will always remain. Remember the good, concentrate on the happy, and always, always say his name.” Now with tears in both of our eyes we said goodbye, for now.

On Saturday, as I was standing in our space at the market when a short, small framed smiling red head came walking up, it was Ms. Jeanne Connolly. Jeanne has been our “go to” person with Carolina Donor Services and has always been a huge supporter of the Lindsay M. Benton Foundation. She always brings a breath of fresh air anywhere she goes. Jeanne has asked me to speak at a various venues telling Lindsay’s story and the donor family side of organ donation. Little did she know what an effect it would have on my grief recovery. Only a few moments later Mrs. Jill Helm came walking through our doors and she did not come alone. You see Jill is the recipient of one of Lindsay’s kidneys, and carries a very special part of our heart with her everyday. What a wonderful day seeing Jeanne and Jill at the same time.

I so often think of my grandparents, Frank and Maylor Gore along with my other grandma, Ethel Benton. My grandparents had a total of ten children, six sons and four daughters. Before my grandparents left this world at the ages of 89, 86 and 100 they lost a total of 4 children and two grandchildren. My grandparents Frank and Maylor lost three sons and two grandchildren, my grandma Ethel Benton lost a son and also her husband. The youngest son lost was 16 and the oldest was 58. The youngest grand child was 10 and the oldest was 39. I try sometimes to put my self in my grandfathers shoes, the loss of multiple children is unfathomable to me. We lost one, and I don’t know if I would make it through another.  I remember as a young child sitting at my grandmother’s house and just watching her sit, rock and cry. I could not understand why she was so upset, why she was so distraught, why she would not go to the funeral. After we lost Lindsay I understood completely. The grief of losing a child is indescribable, and the pain that fills your heart is immeasurable.

Death does not discriminate, it does not check birth certificates or drivers licenses, it does not know age at all. It does not look at color or nationality, it does not care about religion or any other beliefs. Death does not, never has or never will, follow any schedule. By the time you finish reading this blog, in the United States alone, two people per second have died, 105 people per minute have left this world and 6,316 people per hour have left loved ones behind. I can assure, you no matter the cause, no matter the reason, they did not choose death, death chose them. I am asking that when you finish reading this blog don’t procrastinate, use one of the many ways we communicate these days and tell someone you love them, tell someone you miss them, tell someone you care.