I am getting ready to head back to where I grew up, and so starting Friday of this week until the next one, I will not be posting...
How will the world survive? Pretty simple, no one reads this so no one will really care :)
But on the off-chance I do get a reader who's psyched about reading the blog everyday, I did not want to dissappoint them with no warning.
Well, now on to the poetry part, sort of. I wanted to put down a part for a play I have brewing in my mind lately. This excerpt is a letter of a transplant recipient to the donor family and I was just hoping for some ideas from people to see if they like it, if they find it moving. Anyway, here it is:
Dear donor family,
Boy, that salutation just does not do justice for what you mean to me. But, how I’m starting this is inadequate as well. How does one sum up all the feelings raging inside them at a moment like this? Well, I guess honesty is a good start. I didn’t want to write this letter, at first. I was asked to do so by my therapist, and I resisted. (Yes, I did say therapist – dealing with death and all your sins can be really tough to do.) I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to justify my existence with your loss.
That’s when I realized I couldn’t. But I could tell you how my life has changed because of your son/brother/husband/??? And to tell you how it changed, you have to know how it was before. I was a chain smoker for thirty-five years, a workaholic, and a dead-beat dad. You could call me a dead-beat man, for I did not even deserve to be called a dad. I know what you may be thinking, and you’re right. Not a pretty picture in the least.
I thought I had the world at my feet. Have you ever felt like that? I felt that way until about five years ago. Have you ever had a cough that wouldn’t go away? Mine went on for about a year before I went to the doctors. At that visit, I had the world pulled right out from under me. Emphysema, they said, and bad at that. Roughly two years to live, but most likely only eighteen months. I freaked, literally. Long story short, I broke down and cried my heart out… And then I cried some more. After some time, I looked past my selfishness, and I saw past my condition. That’s when I saw the wreck that was my life and knew I needed to patch it together before my last breath. If that was possible that was. It took four years after that point, but I reunited with my daughter and son, and also with other family members. I focused on them and gave them my all. And even before that, I quit smoking.
I was prepared for death, and I lay in the hospital just waiting for my last few breaths. That was when a miracle presented itself and I received a lung transplant. When I woke up, I made a vow that moment. It’s a vow I plan to keep until the good Lord takes me: that I put family first, and that I thank God and your loved one for his gift of life. If you want, I would love to continue to write to you.
My deepest regards and sympathy,