Before My 19-Year-Old Son Died, He Donated His Heart to an 18-Year-Old Girl—Then Her Mother Handed Me a Letter: “Mom, There’s Something You Need to Know About Her”

And before I read another word, Sarah whispered:

“Her name is Maya.”

PART 2 — THE LETTER

I sat on a wooden bench outside the chapel because my legs would no longer hold me.

Sarah stayed several feet away.

Close enough if I needed her.

Far enough that the moment still belonged to me.

The paper smelled faintly like the hospital.

Caleb’s handwriting became less steady near the bottom of the page.

I began reading.