An Open Letter To A Family I've Never Met

First of all, I know nothing about the family member you lost over the holidays. I don't know the age, gender, marital status, whether or not he or she was a parent. Still, please, accept my very deep sympathy on your loss.

I do know that he or she was loved. How else to explain how, in this most sorrowful time, you were able to reach beyond yourselves and make such a selfless decision? It had to be in order to save another family from a Christmas tragedy, and in this, know that you were successful.

Your loved one's heart was successfully transplanted into my cousin, a 34-year-old father of three, whose own was so diseased from a random virus that he barely lived through Christmas Day. The family was all called to the hospital; those of us who weren't there spent Christmas hovering by the phone, willing it to ring, announcing some better news, and at the same time praying that it wouldn't ring and deliver the worst.

I'm not one to treat God like some cosmic vending machine; my prayers are normally vague, not specific requests. I've found that He tends not to work on demand.

In this instance, though, I was quite specific. Come on, Lord, Christmas Day? What about his three little boys and the rest of their lives? What about his parents, his siblings and their families? You can't do this, I said to Him, as if my words could make a difference.

Know, though, that I never prayed or wished for any other family to undergo exactly that. I knew that's what had to happen, of course, but I, we, instead wished that if some family did undergo such an unspeakable tragedy, they would somehow find the strength to do what you did.

Thank you. I hope that in time, you find some comfort in knowing what you have done.

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