This is a photo of me and my godson, Ryan. (He’s also my cousin.)

I was fifteen when he was born. When I received my transplant, he was seven years old.

I loved him insanely. I kept his photos in my locker, and my friend Amilia remembers that we used to call him “baby.” (I still love him insanely, don’t get me wrong. The insanity of love does’t wane.)

He’s 25 now. He works in Pittsburgh and has a degree in economics. He’s learning Japanese.

When I was on the list, when I thought I might not get to see him grow up, one of the things I wrote during that time was a letter to him—things I wanted him to know.

Fortunately he never received that letter, because I did get to see him grow up. I saw him lose teeth, make his first communion, heard his voice break and his body shoot up in height, and I went to his high school graduation party and I know him as an adult.

Patty is three years old. When I had my transplant, her mother (my cousin) wasn’t even married. Neither were my siblings.

My nieces—sweet Madeleine and Hailey—weren’t even possibilities at that point.

There are so many gifts. So many things I didn’t even think of when I was twenty-three.

So many things I would have missed.

For some reason, I didn’t miss them. I got to experience them.

“I am, among all men, most richly blessed.”

Please consider becoming an organ donor, so that more families like mine can be blessed.

Also, my annual signed book sale is on! Get a signed copy of my book, a specially designed bookmark and prayer card, and free shipping, for $15! Email me with your address.