Julie was one of my favorite students at the University of Nebraska. I remember her coming to me after class one day. While most students hurriedly left, Julie1to ask questions about the next week's exam.
Julie never2it to the exam, though. The day after our conversation, she was tragically struck by a truck.
In Julie's ward, her parents stood in quiet3. The physician entered, cleared his4, and said, “Your Julie has only a few5to live.” He felt the6to ask, “Would you consider donating some of her organs?”
7, in a neighboring state, Mary leaned forward, her eyes following every movement of her child. She was8memories to enjoy when she could no longer9him.
Several states away, John, 26, was reading to his sons, his body connected to a life-giving “artificial kidney”. Doctors had given him a10of only weeks to live. His only hope was a kidney transplant.
Julie's grief-stricken parents11the physician's question in their mind. Julie had once said she wanted to be an organ donor12her death.13as they were, they turned to the physician, responding, “Yes. Julie always gave to others while living. She would want to give in death.”
Within 24 hours, Mary was informed she would receive one of Julie's eyes, and John was told to prepare for a kidney transplant. Julie's other organs would give life and14to other waiting recipients.
“Julie died right after her twentieth birthday. My heart breaks again and again, at each birthday, at each15: when she might have graduated; when she might have married…” says Julie's mother. “But Julie's life was a16to us. Knowing that in her death, she gave life and sight to others is17to us, and remembering that we carried out her18has helped us19 the loss of her.”
I may have had a small part in teaching Julie how to live. But she, and her family, are still teaching me an even greater lesson how to20.
