That’s how long it’s been since Lennon’s first liver transplant.
When we made the decision to move forward with the transplant, there is no way we could have known of all that occurred after. All we had, was hope.
Hope that the transplant would indeed ease Lennon’s life. That it would bring us some kind of normalcy that didn’t involve going to the hospital 2-3 days a week.
During the month and years that followed, hope is all we had to hang onto. Hope that it for Lennon’s future become more about the quality of life rather than quantity.
Life is different now, improved and riddled with less anxiety.
How far is he’s come because of this gift and the lessons we all learned along the journey, I honor them. With each struggle, infection, and liver that Lennon was blessed with, we learned more about him, the way he shines his light into this world, teaching us what is open to the gift of life really means.
I say it time and again, Lennon doesn’t know what it means to be pissed off or hold it against people. And it’s beautiful. He gets mad like we all do at times but he doesn’t stay there. Instead, he bounces around the house singing or talking, usually having a conversation with himself or his game and periodically giving me a hug-attack.
There is no stress about how he is going to do something because he doesn’t believe that he can’t. Sure he does things differently, but don’t we all?
I say this every single year, but I am forever grateful for the families who have made the decision for organ donation during their time of grief. I don’t know who they are, but I love them dearly and like every year, I will light a candle tonight (and on the 21st for liver #2). Each family deserves to be remembered for the gift they have brought to this world.
And I encourage you to be an organ donor because you are helping change someone’s life for the better, and isn’t that the best thing to do?
I think it is.