The night we honored my son Kevin for the last time was at Stanford Hospital in Palo Alto. He was to be an organ donor after a car crash caused by a young driver ended his life when he was only 48 years old. He was the firstborn of my four children, but we all said that he had the most generous and giving nature. He would have loved being an organ donor, but he probably would have shied away from the formality and respect given to him that last night.

After several days of holding vigil at the hospital while doctors prepared and found viable organ matches, we watched him being wheeled into the surgical unit late that night. We all had the tears of sadness mixed with awe knowing what would happen next. My daughter-in-law Anne had been asked to write a letter to the surgeons describing who Kevin was in life. As a tribute of respect for him, the donor surgeons gathered around my son to read her testament. They then stood in silence honoring him and his gift. We as a family in the

waiting room joined with them in that silence after Anne read aloud what she had written.

My memory of that night and how much light filled us and the hospital is one that allows me a breath of joy for the man Kevin was and the help he gave to others to be able to continue living.