THE DAY I MET MY MOM'S HEART RECIPIENT

Alright, I know I have talked about this before (the topic of finding out someone has my mom's heart that is), but I never wrote about it or- talked about how I felt when I got the chance to actually meet him. It's been almost ONE year (next month) since that day, so I thought I would take a moment to reflect.

Let me back up a little.

One morning, while lounging in my house doing a little writing for my memoir, I decided to dig out an old box of photographs and albums to browse through. I wanted to spark some memories of my childhood, as I was having what some people refer to as "writer's block". I know many authors don't believe in this concept (because they think it's just an excuse not to write)- but TRUST me- it's real!

BUT it's only an excuse if you make it one! For me- looking at pictures and listening to classical music typically stirs up the words to get my pen to paper!

So… I turned on some music and grabbed the dusty, blue photo bin off the top shelf in my closet -and soon began rummaging through it. I sat on the floor with all the remnants of my old life scattered all around me. As I began to browse, I quickly found out that it not only had pictures of my childhood in it, but of my mother's childhood too! I realized that my family must have saved them for me (since my mom passed away during my teenage years), in hopes that perhaps one day I'd take an interest and go digging.

And here I was. They were right!

At thirty-eight, I had demanded that the universe tell me more about who I was and where I'd come from! I wanted to know every little thing, and (now that I was a mom myself)- I wanted to know ALL about my roots! Was I happy kid?! Were my parents happy?! Did the house I grew up in ACTUALLY look how I envision it to look?! I wanted to study our faces and see exactly what those formative years of my childhood looked like. Only this time, through a different lens. An older one.

In the box, I found black and white photos from my mother's childhood, her old high-school ID, pictures of my great grandparents, awards she had won throughout her life, her old yearbooks, letters that were written to my grandmother after my mom had passed (stories about my mom from those who had known & loved her), old polaroids from my childhood, adorable elementary school artwork I had made (mostly with my little handprint and cute mis-spellings), mother's day cards I made for her throughout the years, my parents wedding album, and somewhere at the way bottom of the bin, a letter addressed to our family from a man named Andre.

As I sat on the carpet (with so many things around me - I now felt trapped in the past), I unfolded the letter to investigate more. In a way all this investigating made me feel powerful. Like Sherlock Holmes or Nancy Drew. But my power would soon turn to disbelief as I read the letter down to the bottom of the page.

The letter was actually a ‘THANK YOU’ note. I soon realized that Andre was my mother's heart recipient. My mom had donated her heart. My own heart was racing by now, as I processed this information- and that my mom was an organ donor and that her heart lived on. I sat and thought about this some more. I tried to remember if I had known this. If maybe someone in my family had told me, but that perhaps in the midst of tragedy- I had blocked it out. I couldn't remember anyone ever telling me though. The thoughtful letter was written years ago, as mom had passed in 2002. That made it over twenty years old. A precious artifact in my mind.

The letter had mentioned Andre's retirement years. ‘If he had retired twenty years ago, could he still be alive?!’ I thought. I soon became very curious and began researching online. After two hours, I found absolutely nothing. I then text messaged a group coined in my phone as the, "Dance Mom's". The mom’s in my daughter’s dance class. I had to tell someone about my find, so I decided a trusted group of eight mom's would do the trick! They all thought it was so cool. They knew about my memoir, and how I'd been digging into my past. Now they decided to do a little digging too!

After a while, I received a text from one of them with Andre's phone number, along with a Wisconsin address listed below it. It was just fifteen minutes or so away from my own address! I stared at it for quite some time. "Come on Amy", my friend messaged me. "Just call him", she said. "What do you have to lose?!" After much back and forth, I decided to call and introduce myself. I was so nervous, but he put me at ease. Now in his eighties, he reminisced about the day he received the heart. We laughed, shared our stories, and I had the chance to tell him more about whose heart he had. My favorite part of the conversation was when he told me that he had, "Always known he had a special heart, but now it's been confirmed.”

Her heart had given him many years. Years with his daughters, years with his grandchildren and wife, and years to just simply .... live.

I told Andre about the memoir I was writing. About its publication date, and about my upcoming book launch. He told me that he would come to my book launch to meet me. I wasn't sure if he just said that to be nice, or if he would actually come. Sure thing though…the day of the book launch (months later)... he came!

I was so nervous. Like palms sweating, heart racing, difficulty concentrating... kind of nervous. My heart and soul were poured into this book, and while I was nervous about showing that part of me to the world, I was even more nervous to meet the man who had my mom's heart! It would be a memory I knew I would hold onto forever.

The launch was packed with people! I felt SO blessed at the turn out, and all the support I received from friends, family and even complete strangers! But I felt even more blessed when Andre and his family walked through the door. His eyes were kind and his smile (although I had never met him before) looked so familiar. My Dad later said the same thing. We talked, we laughed, we hugged.

He bought eight hardcover books from me! I signed them all. I told him that he didn't have to buy all of them, but he said he wanted to. He insisted. That wasn’t cheap, and I kept thinking to myself, "What if he doesn’t like my book?!" He reassured me though that he wanted to buy them (for himself and his family). He was curious (and supportive)! I bonded with his daughters too, and they all made my night more special than I could have ever imagined.

Andre and his family also helped me to remember that in the midst of tragedy- there can also be beauty. That sometimes we don't see the bigger picture until much later on when we go searching for it. And that a little kindness goes a long way!

And in a small (heartfelt) way, I felt like a piece of my mom was right there in the room with me! On a big day, in a special place, with some amazing people!

So- Here's my letter to you, Andre.

Thank you! Thank you for making such an important day so memorable. You are a special person!

Amy