January 29, 2013 - Thank you
For one family, it is a date of sorrow. It is the day that their loved one left this world, but left it with a wish, with a request that any useable organs be donated, so that another can experience more life.
For our family, this date is a rebirth. It is a father able to be there for his children, and a husband (fiancé) able to walk, once again, hand in hand, with his girl, for an evening stroll.
The magnitude of this gift is not lost on Keith. There will never be enough thanks in this world, and each and every breath he takes, is a breath of gratitude.
This post was begun on January 29th, 2013 - Over two months ago when Keith had just received his gift. The timing in posting it now, stems out of respect for the family that have lost their loved one, and because these last two months have been focused on taking care of this precious gift, and ensuring that it continues to keep Keith as healthy as it can, for as long as it can.
I have come back to this post so many times, with the hopes that some lightening bolt will hit and I will have the perfect words. It is when I wish we had a language that had 1000 different words for thank you, and one word was just right.
Our thank you encompasses all of the above and more. Our thank you sends prayers and hugs and blessings to the family who have lost their loved one. Our thank hopes that you take comfort knowing that this gift will be cherished.
Keith and I want to let you know that we will always feel joined with your family. Keith is not a writer, but we have discussed how to say this, and I hope that I do justice to his thoughts here.
When I wake, in the first few moments my thought is one of peace. Peace that I had not known for many years. I feel a level of comfort that my body had not been allowed to feel, and each fibre and nerve and muscle in my body is responding with a resounding chorus of thanks.
Breath is effortless. I confess to having moments where I don't even think about breathing, which for someone with less than 10% lung function is an impossibility.
I love my new lungs, I so appreciate that you supported your loved ones choice, and my children, my friends, and beautiful fiancé thank you for saving my life.
I have come back to this post so many times, with the hopes that some lightening bolt will hit and I will have the perfect words. It is when I wish we had a language that had 1000 different words for thank you, and one word was just right.
Our thank you encompasses all of the above and more. Our thank you sends prayers and hugs and blessings to the family who have lost their loved one. Our thank hopes that you take comfort knowing that this gift will be cherished.
Keith and I want to let you know that we will always feel joined with your family. Keith is not a writer, but we have discussed how to say this, and I hope that I do justice to his thoughts here.
When I wake, in the first few moments my thought is one of peace. Peace that I had not known for many years. I feel a level of comfort that my body had not been allowed to feel, and each fibre and nerve and muscle in my body is responding with a resounding chorus of thanks.
Breath is effortless. I confess to having moments where I don't even think about breathing, which for someone with less than 10% lung function is an impossibility.
I love my new lungs, I so appreciate that you supported your loved ones choice, and my children, my friends, and beautiful fiancé thank you for saving my life.
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| Sheer joy |
