When we got the call to hit the road and run to Philly for Babygirl's kidney transplant, it was a massive three-ring-circus event. I was still packed from the false alarm earlier in the week, but Hubby was not. Babygirl had nothing ready. The car had no gas. And Babygirl herself was actually AT SCHOOL.
But however chaotic, tense, and nauseatingly hopeful our morning was, her donor's family was having the utter opposite: Finishing a long night with no remaining hope; and deciding to send what little hope they had out into the wider world to attempt to bring meaning to a loss so monumentous as to defy all logic and language.
How would I feel, now, six years after the loss of a child, knowing that parts of him were still out there somewhere, alive - and sustaining life?
I'm sure that there is some blessing there. But to me it seems so small a thing against the loss.
Keep Jorge's family in your prayers.
DeeDee
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