February 14, 2011
To whom it may concern at NCWDL:
I am writing to gauge your interest in using a personal letter in the "inspirational pieces"
section of your website. I have been moved by the stories I have read while browsing
your site.
I am a nurse whose dearest friend is a physician who recently received a corneal
transplant. The donor was an eight-year-old boy who died in an accident. The enclosed
letter was written by the recipient to the young boy's family. Please consider posting it
for others to read.
My friend, the recipient, attended medical school in Wisconsin and therefore has an
affection for the area. He also has been a champion for organ and tissue donation
throughout his career. He has shared this letter with friends and colleagues, but would be
very thankful if it could be used by your organization. Please let me know if you would
be interested in using it on your website, or in other efforts toward public awareness of
this important cause.
Thank you for your consideration.
- .)
( Sincerely,
Anne M. S., RN, BSN,CMSRN
Pittsburgh, PA 15237
To the parents and family of my friend ...
I have written this letter many times, only to crumple and toss away each heartfelt draft as "not quite good enough, not what I truly feel." After much spilled ink, I have resigned myself to the idea that anything I can or will say here is woefully inadequate to the task. I can only try to express a taste of my feelings and thoughts. Even though these are my own, it is hard to coalesce them into words.
My original drafts did not include any detailed information about myself. It didn't seem that pertinent to me, but all others whom I have consulted for trusted advice were unanimous in their insistence that it be included. It is difficult to paint a portrait of oneself. Basically, I am a relatively young, healthy man with high ideals, a kind and caring heart, I am told, and a good measure of human integrity. I live in the country near Pittsburgh, PA. I have served in the U.S. Navy Submarine Service, for which I will be eternally proud. All my better stories come from this important period ... sea stories, I suppose.
I currently work as a physician, which consumes most of my waking hours. I love life and drink it up every day. I find meaning and pleasure in mostly small things, by most measures. More than anything else, I am an ordinary guy. I write this letter, of course, to honor and thank you and your son.
Usually when a particular person has a great and pivotal impact on one's life, there is some opportunity to offer a kind word and gratitude. This is a distinctly different situation. This is a young man with whom I have never spoken. I have not taught him anything, nor he me. I have never teased him just a little, which I'm sure he would have liked.
Although I have acknowledged my woeful inadequacy in the face of this communication, I can do this simple act well: I can make a promise. My basic promise is as such: There will never be a time, when the sun rises and then sets again, when I will not think of your precious son with gratitude, acknowledge him with duty and action, or speak of him with lofty ideals and words. I do all this, of course, without knowing him personally. I do it with a little imagination, though, and the knowledge of his parents' immense generosity in the face of their own profound tragedy. He comes to life in my thoughts.
I promise that I will pause with the most fundamental respect to consecrate milestones in his life which will never be, at least not in the usual fashion. I promise to bid him respect each time I marvel at a priceless vista, big or small, in my world, knowing this would not be possible without him.
In a thought, in a word, I promise to never forget this noble little boy, your precious young son. I am so very sorry for your loss. M.