Today is the Write . . . Edit . . . Publish bloghop aka WEP. The theme for this month of November is SHARING. All participants can post anything they want (a short story, poem, or even a story through pictures) about sharing. And it’s not too late to sign up!
Back Story: I have been experiencing heart problems (non-life threatening) for almost two years now, and during the time when I was really scared I started to think about what it would be like to get a heart transplant. That train of thought eventually turned to donating my heart. This essay is very personal, and it is hard for me to share, but I do want to know what you think of it. :) It is 568 words long.
If I Could Donate My Heart
When someone is waiting for a heart and receives one through an act of fate, they may never know where the heart came from. This thought struck me with wonder. If I had a heart transplant, I would want to know if the person was good or bad. I would want to know what the heart had gone through before it was given to me. What kind of traumas did it face? What kind of sorrows did it feel? What kind of triumphs made it beat faster? Those are the things I would want to know about the strange heart beating inside my chest . . . but what if my heart was being transplanted into a foreign body? If I could donate my heart there are a few things I would want the person receiving it to know.
While the person recovered, I would want them to know we are sharing the same heart. I may not have a body, but as long as my heart beats inside theirs then I am still alive. I would want them to know they’d never be alone as long as they breathed. I would always be with them as an angel, as a second heartbeat.
When they leave the hospital, taking my heart with them, I would want to whisper in their ear to take care of it for me, not to abuse it, not to take it for granted, and definitely not to hate it. During my lifetime, it was a reliable heart. They must keep it beating, because the moment they die I will die all over again.
As they live their new life with their new heart, I would want to tell them about the struggles my heart faced during my life, like the scars that might be left on it from my childhood. I would want them to know I built a wall around my heart to keep it protected, a wall that still might exist within them. I would want to apology to them, because taking down that wall could be a struggle, extending trust could prove to be difficult, and finding love could be a challenge. But if they wanted to trust and love, they would see my heart would be up for the opportunity.
If they do fall in love, I would want them to know I had never been truly, madly, deeply, earth-shatteringly in love, so as they fall in love, I am falling in love, too. I would want to thank them for letting my heart feel the lovely phenomenon for the first time.
On their deathbed, I would want them to know it would be okay to let our heart stop beating; it lived two great lives. And when they pass into the light, I want them to be comforted by the fact that I'd be there to welcome them with open arms, to thank them for the journey they took my heart on. Then I would place their hand on my transparent form and show them my heart hadn’t really left me after all. And with their other hand on their chest, I would tell them it belonged to both of us, that the reason why I was born was to provide a single heart for two lives.