I'll never forget that summer day in 1965 when my mother suddenly died of an unexplained illness at the age of 36. Later that afternoon, a police officer stopped by to ask my father if the hospital could use Mother's corneas . I was shocked. "The doctors want to _ Mum and give her away to other people!" I thought as I ran into the house in tears. "How can you let them do that to her?" I screamed at my father. "My mum came into this world in one piece and that is how she should go out." "Linda," Father said quietly, putting his arm around me, "the greatest gift you can give is a part of yourself. Your mother and I decided long ago that if we can make a difference in just one person's life after we die, our death will have meaning." He went on to explain they had both decided to donate their organs . The lesson my father taught me that day became one of the most important in my life. Years passed. I married and had a family of my own. In 1980, my father became seriously ill and moved in with us. He cheerfully told me that when he died, he wanted me to donate his eyes. "Sight is one of the greatest gifts a person can give," he said. I told Wendy what her grandpa had said, and with tears in her eyes, she went into her grandpa's room and gave him a big hug. She was only fourteen years old------the same age at which I was introduced to such a thing. What a difference! My father died on April 11,1986, and we donated his eyes as he had wanted. Three days later, Wendy said, "Mum, I'm so proud of you for what did for Grandpa." At that moment, I realized that my father gave much more than his eyes. What did Wendy think of her grandpa's donation?
At first she couldn't accept it, but she agreed in the end. She begged her mother not to donate her grandpa's eyes. She felt proud of her grandpa's donation She thought it normal and didn't car about it much.