This Beautiful Life

Life is heartbreakingly beautiful.

In October of 1977, my husband burst into this world. Spunky, head strong, and blind. Nothing short of perfect.

Surgeries would later help restore a minimal amount of Tim's vision, but his visual impairment has always been an undeniable part of his life. I have watched him struggle, and triumph, over true adversity with grace and humor, and without complaint. His disability has certainly shaped him, but it does not define him.

Almost a decade after Tim's birth, just 70 miles away, my parents suffered an unthinkable loss: their third child, Daniel, died hours after birth.

In the midst of their grief, my parents made a generous and selfless gift. They donated Daniel's eyes.

Even then, as a young child, I recognized the depth of what it means to literally give a part of yourself to someone.

This week, we were the recipients of yet another selfless gift, when Tim underwent a cornea transplant and received a cornea from a donor whose family made an impossibly difficult choice.

Tim's surgery was performed by a doctor named Daniel. 

In life, there are no coincidences - there are only paths intersecting, crossing, and weaving together.

In the darkest of moments - the choices we make really do make a world of difference for the people who walk beside us.

And while this procedure will not "cure" Tim's vision issues, we hope it will provide a meaningful difference in his quality of life.

Our opportunity to better his life is a direct result of a generous gift from a life that ended too soon. 

There are not words worthy enough to express gratitude of this kind - my deep tremendous bow to the donor we will never know - but who Tim will carry with him for many, many years to come.

I am humbled by the light within us all.

Heartbreakingly beautiful light. 

What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others. - Pericles