Tomorrow is my birthday. On this grey, cool Florida afternoon my mind drifts to thoughts of my mom. She went home to be with the Lord sixteen months ago. Dating someone’s passing is like stating the age of a child. At some point we talk in generalities: “Our son is two years old”. Yet, within that first two year window, both children and death dates are remembered by the number of months.
It is appropriate that I think about my mom on my birthday, because she did play a pretty big part in the whole being born thing. Yet, on this day I am not remembering what it was like to have her as the mother of my childhood. I am not remembering what it was like to visit with my mom when her health was failing. I am thinking about my mom, in this very moment, as she is up in heaven. No more pain. No more tears. No more struggles. She can play golf all the time. She drives around in a little convertible. And she has perfect hearing and perfect vision. She knows what it is like to be in God’s presence and I am sure she is singing in the heavenly choir. Yet, on this eve of my fifty-third birthday, my thoughts wander to a different question about my mom up in heaven. I wonder if she has met him?
Not “him” as in God, Jesus or the Holy Spirit. Not “him” as in one of the disciples. Not “him” as in a long lost relative. But “him” as in my organ donor? I often ponder what it was like for them to meet the very first time. I wonder what their conversation was like? I wonder what emotions they felt in that moment up in heaven? Did they know each other immediately? Did he have to be introduced to her or vice versa? On this birthday, unlike any other birthday in my life, I pay homage to a young man who has died and I celebrate the possibility of his connection with my mother in heaven. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like in that moment when my mother looked into the eyes of my organ donor for the first time.
Hopefully, in the future, I will be able to meet my organ donor’s family and learn about his life. I want to know who he was, what he was interested in and what made him tick. Until that time comes, which I am well aware that it might never come, I will rest in the thoughts of him and my mother, up in heaven, sharing moments that span eternity.