To The Person Who Donated Their Heart,

I don't know your name. I don’t know who you were. I don't know if you were nice or mean or courageous or cowardly or studious or chivalrous. I know next to nothing about you. What I do know is that you were a male. You had O Positive blood and you were over six feet tall. I know that you were in a car accident in October. I know that you died. I also know that you saved my father’s life.

My dad had been sick for so long. The first time I can remember him going into the hospital I was ten years old -- next May I'm turning twenty. It seemed like he was in the hospital every other week while I was growing up. My older brother and I would get calls far too often telling us to come to the hospital, that he had been admitted again. I became scared to pick up the phone. If the caller ID was anyone other than my friends my hands would start to shake and I had to mentally prepare myself then order my fingers to swipe the phone to answer. I was scared that the next call I got would be the call. The one that told me that it was over -- that he was gone. It was hard. Nights were spent worrying and so many tears were shed.

I'll never forget the close calls, the times I was sure we were going to lose him. I remember holding his hand in the hospital, he was attached to so many monitors and tubes and bags of medicine. I'll never forget how he looked or how I felt looking at him so sickly and pale. He had an IV in his hand and I thought about how strange it is that doctors knew just the right medication to pump into sick people to make them all better. I remember my brother, sister and I sat for so long talking about all the things the four of us were going to do when my dad got better. Trips and vacations and biking and camping; all of the things he couldn't do because of his heart. I held his hand the whole time, for hours and hours, and I didn't want to leave even though I hated that hospital. Even though it made my brother hyperventilate and made my hands shake, I never wanted to leave.

I hated that hospital. It was too clean and smelled too much like antiseptic and sick people and the nurses smiled so nicely and the doctors would look away because they knew, they knew, that there was nothing that could be done. "You need a new heart," I remember one of the doctors saying and that hurt. It hurt my older brother and younger sister so much. How do you explain to a kid that the thing that's supposed to keep you alive is slowly killing you? You can't.

I am so thankful to that hospital, though, and I don’t know where we would be without it... but if I never go back again it would be too soon.

I remember last year I was away at college and I got one of those calls, the one that you never want to get, ever. The one that makes your heart drop, makes you want to throw up and scream. In all your life you fear about getting the call that I got... The doctors were out of answers. No more medication. No more treatment. There was only two options left: get an LVAD (left ventricular assist device) that, at the current moment, his pressures were too dangerously high for the doctors to operate or have a heart transplant right now (and that wasn't going to happen, there wasn’t enough time. He would die before a new heart arrived with his specific blood type).I was beside myself, I couldn't even walk back to my dorm. I needed help from my friends. My hands shook and I knew that this was the end. The next morning I awoke to my phone ringing and with eyes so swollen they wouldn’t open all the way I answered. The doctors had gotten his pressures down enough and Dad was being prepped for surgery. He got the LVAD but that was just a Band-Aid on a gash. It wasn't enough and in my head I mentally counted the days until something else would go wrong.

It was hard. So very, very hard.

Then you came along. You died. But you were an organ donor. And because of that you created life. You saved my dad.

I know nothing about you but I love you so much and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that this had to happen to you. I'm sorry that you got into that accident and I'm sorry they couldn't save you. I'm sorry you won't be able to see your family again. I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to say goodbye. I’m sorry you won't get to feel the sun warm your skin on cloudless days or the rain wet your clothing during storms. I'm sorry you won't lay down next to your wife or husband again to kiss them goodnight. I’m sorry you won’t get to see your children grow. I'm sorry you had to leave your family. I'm sorry your life ended so soon. I'm sorry that I'll never get the chance to say thank you.

So, I'll say it here.

Thank you. You saved my dad. You saved his life and you might've saved other people as well. It was you, sure the doctors helped a little too but you provided the heart that he now has. Thank you for being an organ donor. Thank you for giving him another chance at life. Thank you for giving him back to us. Thank you for being selfless, even though you never got the chance to know the good that you've done.

Everyone wants to be a hero. We all have this instinct inside of us that wants to help other people. So many don't get to do that the way you did. My dad is alive because of you and there is nothing I can do or say that can ever express how grateful and thankful I am.

It might seem strange but I think about you, nameless man with O Positive blood and over six feet tall. I think about how much your family probably misses you. I think about the life you didn't get to have and I pray for you. I thank God for you every time I see my dad laugh and every time he calls me by my stupid nickname.

Life was so hard. There was so much anger and uncertainty. There were many times when I would just stare at the wall thinking about how my dad would never get to see me graduate high school, would never meet my children, would never get to have a life with his new wife. He hadn't been able to so many things. He was so sick but now he's getting better. He's able to do things that he hadn't been able to do in years. Climbing up the stairs doesn't make him dizzy and he can walk without a weight on his chest. It's beautiful, it's unreal, it's a miracle, and it's all because of you.

So no, I don’t know your name and if Donate Life keeps their records as tightly sealed as they promise they do then I never will. Even though I’ll never know you I still wish to thank you...

Thank you for being an organ donor. I thank God for you and your family every day and when I get to Heaven I would like to request a big hug and a formal introduction.

Rest in peace, Beautiful Stranger.