Yes, I know, I know ... I said I was mailing this around Thanksgiving. And I intended to do just that. But when I had everything ready to go, it just didn't feel right. I can't explain any further than that. I suppose I just wasn't ready yet, for whatever reason.
I'm ready now, or as ready as I'll ever be. This is the final version, which I handwrote inside a Hallmark card (may the Fates forgive me). I have literally spent hours looking for the proper card to write this in. I finally stumbled across a card that felt perfect. I'm strictly going on instinct here, but I seem to be guided by unjustifiable feelings rather than rational thought when it comes to this letter.
Anyhow, the card is off-white, with a slightly stylistic picture of a marsh on it. The marsh is done in mostly cool colors: deep greens, grey-blues and a pink verging on violet. The sun is behind distant mountains in the painting, so the mountains are in silhouette, and the grass of the marsh is dark with shadows. Above and below it is written: What seems to us a sunset/ is a sunrise in another land. Inside it says, "In deepest sympathy".
I handwrote the letter inside, and also enclosed a typewritten copy. Along the top of the typed copy I included two extra lines.
I wanted to provide you with a typed copy, since my handwriting is frequently less than legible. It was important to me that this letter be hand-written though.
This is what I wrote inside. It's slightly tweaked from the version I posted briefly in my diary last year, but still essentially the same letter.
30 April 2004
Hello.My name is *********. I'm 47 years old, a veterinarian working in industry, and live with three cats and a wonderfully supportive man. You don't know me. That didn't stop you from making an incredible decision that saved my life. I can only imagine how difficult this was for you, and wanted you to know that you have been in my thoughts often during this past year. You have my sympathy, and my condolences on your loss. I wish I had better words for this, to convey the depth of these emotions. Please know that my feelings are heartfelt, and that there hasn't been a day since May that I haven't paused at some point to reflect on my unknown benefactor and his family and friends.
I wanted this chance to thank you and let you know how much I appreciate this wonderful gift you've passed on me. In the days before I received the new liver I was extremely debilitated from my disease. I was on disability. I had no energy, and had to ask for assistance with even the easiest of tasks, like getting the lids off of jars. I needed a handicapped-parking placard, and even then I was often worn out from just walking from the car to the building. I couldn't concentrate well enough to read a book or newspaper. And then I got the telephone call that gave my life back to me.
Three and a half months after the transplant I returned to work. I once again park my car at the back of the parking lot and walk the full length of the lot to the building. I'm reading books again, and taking care of daily chores again. Virtually everything I lost has been given back to me. Even the smallest things have taken on new meaning; when I take the lid off of a jar now, I pause to think of the unknown donor and his family that have made this possible.
I compare my life now to what it was a year ago, and it makes "thank-you" seem too weak a phrase. Until I can find something better, I have to let it make-do.
Thank-you, from the depths of my soul.
I don't know why sending this didn't feel right until now, but for whatever reason, this was the right time for me to do this.