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”
Once somebody asked whether she suddenly liked Caleb’s music.
She answered:
“No.
His playlists were terrible before and remain terrible after death.”
I nearly fell out of my chair laughing.
That joke gave me more peace than any mystical idea about cellular memory ever could.
The heart was physical.
The relationship was emotional.