I was holding his hand when it happened.
There are moments when the world seems to stop.
That was one of them.
Afterward, the medical team explained the donation process and what could happen depending on his medical eligibility.
I remembered Mark’s wishes.
I signed the necessary documents and answered the questions as best I could.
It wasn’t easy.
Nothing about it felt easy.
But I knew what Mark had wanted.
Then, as I was leaving the hospital, Dr. Rivers called my name.
“Sally, wait.”
I turned around.
He was holding a plain white envelope.
“Mark gave this to me several weeks ago.”
I stared at it.
“What is it?”
“He asked me to give it to you only after his death.”
My heart began racing.
“Why?”
“He said you would understand when the time came.”
I looked at the envelope.
My name was written across it in Mark’s handwriting.
Just one word:
Sally.
Dr. Rivers hesitated.
“He also told me you didn’t have to open it immediately.”
I almost smiled.
“That sounds exactly like him.”
I took the envelope home.
But I couldn’t bring myself to open it that night.
Instead, I placed it on the table and tried to sleep.
Two days later, Mark’s mother, Violet, came to see me.
She was grieving deeply, and I understood that.
But she was struggling with Mark’s decision to become an organ donor.
“Are they really going to use parts of him?” she asked.
“They will only use what is medically suitable.”
She looked upset.
“I don’t understand how you can allow strangers to receive parts of my son.”
“I didn’t make the decision for him.”
“He was sick.”
“He knew exactly what he wanted.”
Violet looked toward my stomach.
“You still have a part of him.”
