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”

“Yes.”

“Were you?”

“What?”

“Grateful every day before Caleb got sick?”

I stared.

Of course not.

Nobody wakes every morning overwhelmed that their heart is beating.

We complain about traffic.