was an activity at school, David was the one who volunteered to help clean up afterward. If the neighbors’ lawns needing mowing, David was the one who showed up to do it—at no charge. If a friend needed him, he was there.
David loved music and swimming and laughing and movies and fishing and taking long walks in the woods. But I think his two favorite loves were cooking and The Three Stooges. That boy could just cook up a storm. He had a natural talent for it. He loved to see the pleasure on people's faces as they tasted the foods he had prepared. And he also loved to laugh. Maybe his laugh is what we missed the most.
About a month after his death, we received a letter from the New England Organ Bank. They gave us some general information about the people who had received David's organs. His corneas, kidneys, liver, pancreas, and heart had all been transplanted. I was mostly intrigued about his heart. We were told the recipient was a forty-one-year-old retired police officer with two sons, ages eleven and thirteen. We knew that whoever got David's heart would be especially lucky, because this was a boy with a wonderful heart.
We went through the next many months just going through the motions. We had good days and bad days, but mostly bad. I broke my back in a fall and missed a lot of work. Eventually, I was laid off. At my doctor's suggestion, I started exercising again, which I had not been doing since David's death. I started going to the gym a few times a week and I kept it up.
About two years later, Steve and I got a letter from David's heart recipient, sent to us through the organ bank. He had written to thank us. He could only tell us his first name, Jim, because organ banks have rules about protecting privacy. And we wrote him back, through the organ bank, telling him about ourselves and David, and how much his note meant to us. After corresponding like that for a while, we decided we wanted to meet. The organ bank said they would check on the protocol about that and get back to us.
I was so excited about the possibility of meeting Jim—nervous, but excited. One night, on the way out of the health club, I stopped to talk to the owner, Paul, about it.
“Guess what, Paul—I think I'm going to get to meet my son's heart recipient,” I told him. “This man—his name is Jim—has been writing to us, and I think the organ bank is going to arrange a meeting.”
“Did you say his name is Jim?” Paul asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Oh, my God. Faith, you already know this man. You work out with his wife all the time. And Jim comes here, too.”
At first I didn't believe him. I couldn't. But Paul told me that a woman who worked out there had been telling him how her husband, Jim, was going to be meeting his donor's family. Right that minute, Paul called Jim on the phone and asked him the name of his donor's mother.
“Faith?” he repeated. “Jim, she's standing right in front of me right this minute. I think you need to get down here.”
My whole body turned to jelly. I was pacing and shaking, and people were standing around crying. Then all of a sudden, a man came through the door and Paul said, “That's him.”
I walked right up to Jim and just looked at him. And then I said, “I want to give you a hug.” I felt like I was thanking him for keeping a part of David alive. And I gave him a picture of David.
We had always been glad that we had donated David's organs, but the full meaning of the gift hadn't hit me until that minute. Here was a man who never thought he would live to see his sons in high school, but he has. He had been on the waiting list for a heart for two years, because of viral damage to his heart. And before David died, Jim had been hospitalized for forty-eight days, not knowing whether he would live long enough to receive a new heart. Now he's an active dad and husband, looking forward to grandchildren one day.
Meeting Jim Kane gave me back my life.
Seeing his happiness and how much his family loved him snapped me out of the depression I had been in since David's death. When David first died, I really lost all faith in God and everything else. I was just so angry—at life, at God, at every single thing I could think of. I was just a shell of a person.
But Jim completely turned my life around. I knew I had to dedicate myself to promoting organ donation from that moment forward. No one knows more than I do how hard it can be for the donor family. But meeting Jim, I also fully understood what a true gift of life it is.
Once I met Jim and became active in promoting organ donation, I was able to begin my own healing process. It soothed me to know that I was really helping other people. Organ donation is such an emotionally difficult topic, and that's why doctors avoid it so often. They wait and wait to find the right time to talk to the family about it. But that perfect moment rarely comes. You just have to step up and ask anyway—so others can live.
I also started visiting families who had lost teens. I don't even know how that started. But when I would read in the paper about a teen who had died, I knew I had to see that family. I would just pick up the phone and introduce myself. I wanted to be with them. No one could understand their pain better than someone who had been through it. I just want to bring them whatever comfort I possibly could.
Since we met, Jim and I have participated in many public events together. We've spoken at meetings and seminars. We walked a Toys for Tots road race together. I've handed out donor cards at several Boston Marathons and worked for the National Kidney Foundation for several years now, including their motorcycle run.
Last year, we got very involved with a little girl in our community of Attleboro, Massachusetts, who needed a liver transplant. We had read about her story in the paper, and called the family to say we were there to help. We volunteered for everything—blood drives, fund-raising, giving out organ donor cards. When she finally got her liver, I went to the hospital and spent the night with the family. And the little girl did just great.
Our story—actually, the story of David and Jim—has received a lot of publicity. And we think that's great. Because every time someone hears about us, we know that one more family is considering organ donation. And one more family waiting in a hospital room has been given new hope.
So every time I see someone sign a donor card, I give thanks.
“David,” I say, “look what you've done. This is your legacy.”
There are many ways you can give the gift of life. Find out how to become involved. Contact:The National Kidney Foundation, 30 East 33rd Street, New York, New York 10016. Tel: 800-622-9010. In Canada, contact The Kidney Foundation of Canada National Office, 300-5165 Sherbrooke Street West, Montreal, QC H4A IT6. E-mail: [email protected].
CHAPTER3
A Solid Foundation
MILLARD FULLER
MY MOTHER DIED WHEN I WAS THREE YEARS OLD, and a few years later my father married the church organist. So from the time I was very young, church was a big part of our lives. We had church and Sunday school on Sunday mornings, prayer service on Wednesday nights, and revivals every fall.
Our church took care of its own—but only its own. If a member became sick, the preacher and other church members went to see them and always brought flowers. It was a loving and caring fellowship, and that's not bad. But we never reached a hand out farther than our own little circle. There was, of course, support for foreign missionary work, but little outreach locally.
I can tell you now for sure, that hand never reached out far enough.__________________________________
My family always played an active role in our church and we were serious about wanting to follow God. But my father emphasized that financial success in the eyes of the world was always important, too. So I knew, growing up, that I wanted to make a big pile of money one day. I decided I could get rich and also be faithful. From elementary school through law school, I always had a money-making project going on the side.