My last memories of my Uncle Ed are of a cool 20-something year-old. He lifted weights. He rode a motorcycle. He had a tanning bed tan. He spent money on my sister and me but more importantly, Uncle Ed invested his time in us.
When Uncle Ed died, I was barely a teenager. Despite their grief, my family found meaning amid the tragedy by honoring his life through organ donation. As a kid, I didn’t fully know what an organ donor meant, yet I knew it was important because my Grana used that term so lovingly when she talked about her son. Organ donation was something to be proud of. The letter she received from the organ procurement organization (OPO) in Indiana after his passing shed light on just how many people benefitted from his gift.
“Your love of your son became evident in the fact that you were willing to donate,” the letter explained.
From South Bend, Indiana, to the island of Puerto Rico, the lives of five people were saved because of Uncle Ed’s organs, and countless others were healed through his tissue donation. I don’t recall if Uncle Ed ever traveled the world but knowing a piece of him was thriving on an island paradise was a comfort. Uncle Ed made a real impact.
