Dear D
after Doroti Polgar's poem 'Dear Justin'. Thank you for the inspiration.
Dear Doreen,
or can I call you D?
In our house we shorten names,
a form of affection I suppose
our Philippa is Pip
Aimee is Aims
Finley, Finn
my husband James, is Jim
and I’m Rebecca but Bex
and well, you’re a part of us now.
Part of Jim.
And if ever I wanted to show affection
some warmth or tenderness to a person I hold dear
that’s you Doreen.
But you see, it doesn’t feel right to call you that
so were you ever someone’s Dore?
or Reeny?
I think of you as our D.
Dear D,
How beautiful it would be to say I think of you daily
that daily I’m thankful for your gift
for your husband’s gift of honouring your wishes when the
shock of your death hit him.
But I’m sorry,
that wouldn’t be honest.
There’s not much that happens daily around here
even the dishwasher gets left some days
dirty plates, mugs and cutlery piling high while we do
school runs, work, shifts, homework, eat,
repeat and repeat.
There’s not much time for daily contemplation.
but maybe that’s the thanks you’d want anyway
less quiet wistful looks out of a window,
more raucous chaotic full living.
Maybe our thanks is our busy family life
a healthy
fully functioning family now.
Thanks to you.
Dearest D,
We did have our quiet days
now we know they were your last,
normal days for you maybe?
But for us there was an empty chair at our kitchen table,
too tired after 4pm to sit with us
days when his body was present, but he was absent.
And oh how his skin was present, tormenting him with that
itch
the deep yellow jaundice
days when he was fading, body mind and soul.
couldn’t follow the thread of a conversation
couldn’t think straight
couldn’t engage
and his flesh faded too
first fat then muscle
I scarce can say it out loud but in your last days, I
wondered if he might disappear altogether
Oh our Dearest D,
I want you to know that we prayed for you in those days
before we knew your name.
When we prayed for a miracle,
begged God to save him
a whole community rallying
100 pray-ers on a WhatsApp group
we said, ‘Don’t forget to pray for our donor,
whoever he or she is.
Pray for their families too’.
We prayed for some comfort, for peace
we wept in the absence of words
because what prayers are good enough?
Knowing our joy would be somebody else’s grief.
Our life would be somebody else’s death.
Oh our dearest and most precious D,
How can I describe to you the relief of receiving that 3rd
call?
The night you died.
Kids woken up for goodbyes
more tears and hugs at 2am
more prayers
him being driven to the Royal Free Hospital by Dawn
as night gave way to a new day
no longer turned away by COVID
no longer turned away because someone else was more urgent.
your liver could became his.
a text book operation
your beautiful organ
that you had looked after so well
and no longer needed
could be switched in.
his destroyer removed
your restorer attached
Oh our dearest and forever in our hearts D,
what a difference your gift made.
I watched him pink up
plump up
you gave me my husband back
my kids got their Dad back
we’d been suspended somehow in mid air
couldn’t plan anything
hardly dared to dream
life was on pause as we waited
and you hit the play button
Oh D, D, D, D.
We celebrated his first liverversary.
one year of new life
one year since your death
and I want you to know there was feasting and toasting,
there was reminiscing, laughing and weeping.
That when we visited the team at the Free
we stopped in at the chapel
wrote your name on a leaf and hung it on a prayer tree
honoured you
and your gift
we wore yellow in remembrance of you
and your name was on our lips.
Of course it wasn’t enough
but it was our something
Hi D,
I hope that’s not too overly familiar,
from a 30 something you never met
but we’re intrinsically linked now
you and I
grafted together since that hot summer in July
I’m writing this to you
but I’m writing for us as well I suppose
to remember you.
We do remember you.
Not daily as I mentioned
but oh so often.
I wish I had a framed photograph of you in my house.
So you could have pride of place on my walls amongst
grandparents, nieces and nephews loved ones.
your gift is so important to us
your foresight
your courage to talk about organ donation with your husband.
It saved us.
There aren’t enough words really to write my thanks in this
letter.
Though we’re trying our best in letters to your loved ones.
So, I’ll stop for now.
How can I sign this off now our D?
We’ll keep writing thanks in our poetry, in our blogs
but in our family holidays too
in milestones, celebrations
and in our sacred everyday family messiness too.
I am your eternally grateful,
Bex
(I've changed our donor's name for her, and her family's anonymity)
