Read Online Your Heart to Keep: Holly and Jax by Amanda Mackey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amanda Mackey
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used to be. It is strong and I have been offered a normal, healthy life. A second chance.
I was in congestive heart failure from a dilated aorta which was at risk of tearing or rupturing. I led a limited life in many ways, unable to partake in physical activities.
With all the pain you are currently suffering, please know that your daughters’ passing was not in vain, for she gave me life and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Each day I continue to get stronger and can now look forward to a brighter future.
Please accept my heartfelt condolences. If you remain in contact with Chloe’s boyfriend, please also pass on my commiserations. It is my understanding that he was unaware that she registered to become an organ donor and reacted to the news with mixed emotions. Let him know that her death was not the end for she continues to live on in me.
If there is anything I can do for you, my home phone number is: 303-796 4421
Sincere regards,
Holly Jenkins
I didn’t want to ramble on and thought the letter was adequate. If they wanted to contact me, they could do it when they were ready.
After instructing my computer to print the letter out I left it on my desk. I’d wait another week and then get it mailed in order to give them enough time to get over the funeral.
***
I found my mother in the kitchen a week later and gave the letter to her.
“What’s this, Hols?”
“It’s a letter to the donor’s family. Are you able to call the registry and get their address so we can mail it?” I was chewing on my gums again, nervous that she may think it an inappropriate thing to do. After all, my parent’s response in the hospital had been far from encouraging. Today though, things seemed to have changed. Maybe, like me she felt like enough time had passed.
“Oh darling! You’re amazing, you know that? You’ve been through major heart surgery and yet all you care about is other people. I’m so proud of you!” She pulled me in for a hug.
“Why don’t we do one better and get a phone number so you can call? I’m sure even through their grief they would appreciate it.”
“Why the sudden turnaround?”
“I’ve been thinking about if we were in their situation and as hard as it would be, I think I would like a call from the person who had our daughter’s heart.”
“I’ve thought about it too but then I wondered if it would be, ‘in their face.’”
“I think it’s a great idea!” My dad had decided to walk into the kitchen to join in on the conversation as he fluffed my hair on the way past. I heard the familiar sound of him putting on a pot of coffee.
“Ugh. I’m not sure. They mightn’t want to speak with me. At least with a letter they can read it and then tear it up.”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You’ll never know if you don’t at least try.”
Suddenly I was nervous. Writing a letter was one thing. Making a phone call was another.
“How about you make me a coffee Dad and then I’ll decide?” Moving to the table, I sat in a chair.
Hang on! Where had that come from? I hated coffee! Didn’t I?
Something dropped onto the counter where my dad was standing. “Sweetheart? Ahh, you don’t drink coffee remember?”
“I don’t know what it is or where that came from but the smell of that pot you’ve got brewing makes me really want one.” In fact, it wasn’t just wanting a coffee. It was needing one. I’d never craved a beverage like I was just from the smell of it.
My mother came and sat down beside me. “That is so weird. I wonder why you’re suddenly wanting a drink you’ve never been able to stand. It’ll be interesting to see if you like the taste.”
I knew I was going to like the taste. I knew it with everything I had and the cup couldn’t come fast enough.
When I saw my father placing something in front of me, knowing it was my coffee, I found the handle and practically ripped it out of his hands, taking a swig.
The divine liquid hit my taste
I was in congestive heart failure from a dilated aorta which was at risk of tearing or rupturing. I led a limited life in many ways, unable to partake in physical activities.
With all the pain you are currently suffering, please know that your daughters’ passing was not in vain, for she gave me life and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Each day I continue to get stronger and can now look forward to a brighter future.
Please accept my heartfelt condolences. If you remain in contact with Chloe’s boyfriend, please also pass on my commiserations. It is my understanding that he was unaware that she registered to become an organ donor and reacted to the news with mixed emotions. Let him know that her death was not the end for she continues to live on in me.
If there is anything I can do for you, my home phone number is: 303-796 4421
Sincere regards,
Holly Jenkins
I didn’t want to ramble on and thought the letter was adequate. If they wanted to contact me, they could do it when they were ready.
After instructing my computer to print the letter out I left it on my desk. I’d wait another week and then get it mailed in order to give them enough time to get over the funeral.
***
I found my mother in the kitchen a week later and gave the letter to her.
“What’s this, Hols?”
“It’s a letter to the donor’s family. Are you able to call the registry and get their address so we can mail it?” I was chewing on my gums again, nervous that she may think it an inappropriate thing to do. After all, my parent’s response in the hospital had been far from encouraging. Today though, things seemed to have changed. Maybe, like me she felt like enough time had passed.
“Oh darling! You’re amazing, you know that? You’ve been through major heart surgery and yet all you care about is other people. I’m so proud of you!” She pulled me in for a hug.
“Why don’t we do one better and get a phone number so you can call? I’m sure even through their grief they would appreciate it.”
“Why the sudden turnaround?”
“I’ve been thinking about if we were in their situation and as hard as it would be, I think I would like a call from the person who had our daughter’s heart.”
“I’ve thought about it too but then I wondered if it would be, ‘in their face.’”
“I think it’s a great idea!” My dad had decided to walk into the kitchen to join in on the conversation as he fluffed my hair on the way past. I heard the familiar sound of him putting on a pot of coffee.
“Ugh. I’m not sure. They mightn’t want to speak with me. At least with a letter they can read it and then tear it up.”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You’ll never know if you don’t at least try.”
Suddenly I was nervous. Writing a letter was one thing. Making a phone call was another.
“How about you make me a coffee Dad and then I’ll decide?” Moving to the table, I sat in a chair.
Hang on! Where had that come from? I hated coffee! Didn’t I?
Something dropped onto the counter where my dad was standing. “Sweetheart? Ahh, you don’t drink coffee remember?”
“I don’t know what it is or where that came from but the smell of that pot you’ve got brewing makes me really want one.” In fact, it wasn’t just wanting a coffee. It was needing one. I’d never craved a beverage like I was just from the smell of it.
My mother came and sat down beside me. “That is so weird. I wonder why you’re suddenly wanting a drink you’ve never been able to stand. It’ll be interesting to see if you like the taste.”
I knew I was going to like the taste. I knew it with everything I had and the cup couldn’t come fast enough.
When I saw my father placing something in front of me, knowing it was my coffee, I found the handle and practically ripped it out of his hands, taking a swig.
The divine liquid hit my taste
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