WHO SAID CHIVALRY WAS DEAD ?

WHO SAID CHIVALRY WAS DEAD?

My wife Saroj, while driving from Nadi to Lautoka Teachers’ College had seen many acts of chivalry on the road. She used to tell me stories she heard from her women friends, who were stranded on the roadside with flat batteries, punctured tyres or without petrol and were kindly rescued by kind gentlemen who were total strangers.

Saroj told me about strangers who went out of their way to return lost wallets, cell phones, credit cards and even cash. One of her friends once accidentally tipped the driver with a $50 note thinking that she was handing him $5. The driver, knowing that it had to be a mistake, followed her and returned the money.

Once Saroj and her friend Seini ordered their usual tea and some cakes from a new café only to discover that they had left their wallets in their car that was in the parking lot. The cashier simply told them to pay on their next visit, not knowing if he would ever see them again but they returned the money later the same day.

Sometimes a little trust goes a long way. Saroj used to visit schools as a senior lecturer to inspect the work of her students on teaching practice. Her handbag used to contain several vital documents, along with her cash and other important items. One day she accidentally left her handbag in the supermarket and drove away.

When Saroj arrived home and discovered that her handbag was missing, she was heartsick but a message was waiting on the answering machine of her home phone. A boy had found the handbag and used the address in it to leave a message to collect the handbag from the given address.

Saroj said she tried hard to get him to accept a reward but he politely refused by saying, “I am just going to sleep better, knowing that I did what I should have done.”

One of Saroj’s favourite stories shows a contagious nature of kindness at the waiting room of an emergency department of the hospital. While she was waiting there for her turn, a mother with two very young children walked in. The mother was trying frantically and unsuccessfully to occupy the fussy children.

Another mother of a toddler began to feel for her and when her number was called, she turned and handed it to the young mother. It was as if a winning lottery ticket was offered to her. She thanked the giver of the ticket repeatedly and this made the mother of the toddler feel really good.

The best part according to Saroj was yet to come. The mother of the toddler settled in to wait another hour for her turn when a young man whose number had just been called turned to her and said, “Go ahead.”

“This once again proved that one good deed deserves another,” concluded Saroj.  

TREASURED TIMES WITH PARENTS

TREASURED TIMES WITH PARENTS

I remember making that last trip to my father who was in hospital suffering from his heart attack. He was covered with all kinds of medical equipment and I sat next to him on his bed. He saw a look of despair on my face and assured me that he was in good shape and would be discharged from hospital soon to go home. He forced a smile and I said what I had planned to say, “I love you Dad (Taji).”

My father replied, “I love you too, son but I want you to do two things for me. The first thing I want you do is to look after your mother after I am gone and the second thing is for you to recite a few couplets from the holy book Gita for me.”

I thanked him for teaching me some of those and I repeated almost all of them from my Gayatri Mantra to verses 7 and 8 of Chapter 4 of the Bhagwad Gita.  While I was reciting these he was listening intently but his eyes had tears in them. When I asked him the reason for his sorrow and tears in his eyes he said the tears were of joy that I heard my eldest child show me the route to my next home and then they were tears of sorrow for my son who I have burdened with added responsibility before going home.”

A lot of these did not make much sense then but they were all revealed when I got the message en route to my home that he was no more. I returned to take care of his funeral but was pleased that I made that last visit to my dying father and was able to communicate some of my last words to him.

After writing this episode in my ‘Sweet and Sour Reflections’ that is published on my various websites I heard from many people who had made that same difficult but essential journey to say their last goodbye to their parents and from others who could not make it in time or they know that they will be making that important journey soon. It was very sad to hear from those who missed their chance, who got delayed too long, and even now, years later, deeply regret it.

One of my friends wrote to me, “I will feel guilty about not having said my last goodbye to my father before his death to tell him one last time how much he meant to me.”

My next friend wrote, “I was fortunate like you that the last thing I ever said to my father was ‘I love you’ and for me to get that gift was one of the best things in my life.”

A lady friend of mine Anita was at her job in the city and when the call came from the nursing home that her mother was critically ill, she was fortunate to arrive at her mother’s bedside half an hour before her passing away. She wrote, “I was with my mother, holding her hand and saying every prayer that she had taught me into her ear.”

Then there was another person who I had not met but he wrote to say that he had spent his last annual leave with his father, walking on the beach and talking about life but two days later he received a call that his dad dropped dead while putting on his shoes. He was sixty-six, fit and in perfect health. So he said, I now tell people to make their connections now because you just never know what happens next.

Ganesh, who moved his dying mother back home added, “I am so grateful that I was able to have her with me for her final days.”

It took James many years and the death of his mother to realize something, “You see, big guys do cry,” and they do say, “ I love you, Mom.”

Joseph makes a point to have dinner with his seventy-six-year-old mother every day, not knowing which might be the last. “It is hard to say goodbye and to say how much you love your parents,” he wrote, “but better to say it than to leave it unsaid.”

Ratna made that last trip two years ago and said that it was difficult but the memories from my last few days with my Dad are nothing short of priceless.”

“I lost my father very suddenly, almost ten years ago, when he was only seventy three,” wrote Radha. “What I wouldn’t have given to have had a chance for one last meaningful visit.”

Likewise, Krish’s father left for his war duties twenty two years ago and never returned and he says, “I would give anything to have one more day with him.”

Devi looks at her aging parents and says, “I realize my time with them is nearing an end. As an only child who hasn’t married, I see that our branch of the family tree is about to fall off.”

Joe’s regrets have spanned the last half-century. He writes, “Fresh out of college and caught up in the demands of a new career, I never said those heartfelt words to my father in the late 1960s even though I knew that his heart disease would soon claim his life.”

I received another regret from some Michael who wrote, “My dad taught my brother and I that true men never told another man they loved him. I am sorry now that I never spoke that L-word to my dad. He never told us that he loved us either. I guess he thought we knew.”

I have formed my view on this issue now. This vital last visit to parents should never be delayed. We can procrastinate paying our taxes or paying our phone bills but never on telling our aging parents what is in our heart.

My beloved wife Saroj had a massive heart attack at home and was taken to the intensive care unit to be placed on life support that made talking impossible. She passed away two days later, all her four children beside her. The grieving husband was left looking at the drizzle of rain falling outside the window as if a gift was being sent from heaven.

I do not need to emphasise how treasured are those last few days together with our aging parents. I guess what I am getting at is that time is precious, life is short and it can end suddenly. So always let your aging parents know what you are feeling. Never wait.

Some trips home are harder than others but Raj’s trip was one of the hardest of all. Home for him was the house he grew up in, the home where his parents still lived, although for how much longer no one could say.

At eighty-eight, his mother was frail and forgetful but with her new hip replacement and heart bypass she was otherwise going strong. It was his father, who until a few months ago was always the robust one, physically strong, mentally sharp and of near boundless energy. However, then came the diagnosis of leukaemia followed by some other complications and the poison that was dished out to him as medicine.

Raj’s father did not want him to come because as he put it that Raj had his own family to look after but Raj showed up anyway. Disobedience for him never felt more correct.

Raj has narrated his story to me, “My father was home from hospital temporarily but the full and the devastating effects of the chemotherapy had not yet arrived. He was weak but comfortable, his mind clear. He was turning eighty- nine soon.

This was our opportunity to be together but neither of us would say it, although we both knew that the last day was coming closer. We usually sat at the kitchen table or the lounge or the balcony and talked. We just talked about life, health, home repairs and grandkids. When he grew tired he went to his bedroom to rest and I went outside to work in the garden or do some cleaning.

When I returned, the house was as quiet as a shrine and I walked from room to room with all my fond memories. The once- blazing but now the cold fireplace was silent. The furniture, the electronic and musical items and the kitchen sink that will always be synonymous with my mother were starring at me. At the basement I stood at the workbench where Dad had taught me to repair the furniture.

When Dad woke up, he asked me to bring him the wooden box I had made for him from hardwood at my industrial arts class. He opened the lid and one by one pulled out his most precious keepsakes.

Among them there was an old clock that my grand dad had given him as twenty-first birthday gift. There were a few school certificates that had distinctions engraved on them. And then there was one of his most treasured possessions of all, his grand father’s silver wedding ring. He described each one in detail and when he was done I put them back into the box and closed the lid.

We were passing time and after dinner I cleared and washed the dishes and retired in the family room. I summoned my nerve and asked my father for a favour. Would he mind letting me interview him about his life? I dreaded asking this because everyone knows that children do not ask for such things until time is running out.

My Dad cheerfully agreed and for the next two hours he talked and I listened as the video camera captured the stories of his life for my children and theirs to come. His story depicted his childhood, his work life, his community service and his family life. Even as he spoke, I felt that he was giving me the greatest gift possible.

The next morning we were all up before the sun, even Mom, who those days slept late. My flight waited to return me to my other life, the life of a husband, a father and a wage earner. As children always must, I had to leave.

In my family, men have never been demonstrative with their feelings because while growing up, my father and I would not greet each other with a hug or a kiss but with handshake.  We followed the rule that the love word was better shown than spoken but on that morning, standing in the porch, his walking stick dangling by his side Dad held out his arms to me.

“Dad,” I said, summoning the words I had said so seldom, “I love you.”

He responded so quickly, so automatically that the words just rushed out as if he had been waiting all those years for permission to speak.

“I love you too, Raju (Beta),” he said. My mother joined him too, “I love you heaps, Raju.”

Raju. This was my mother’s favourite word all along but my Dad had not called me by that loving name since I was a little boy.

On my drive to the airport, I realized something. Something big. There are hard trips home, but no wasted ones. So I have decided to make more trips home and more frequently,” concluded Raj.

One day we all will be staring into the face of death so it is only right and proper to keep saying ‘I love you’ to our loved ones with a hug, a kiss and a solid embrace.

When my own mother became sick and was bed-ridden at age seventy-four I could not be with her in the final hours because I was on assignment but my wife kindly volunteered to go and be with her to care for her in the final days. Within a fortnight my wife called me to say that the final hour for my mother was near so I rushed to be at her bedside.

In the meantime I told my wife to tell my mother that “I love her very much”. My expression of love was conveyed to my mother and I was later told by my wife that my mother opened her eyes and gave her a smile before she left this world. I still harbour regret in my chest that my mother passed away a few hours before I could reach her.

This is life where there are multiple opportunities for treasured times but we do meet regrets that keep hurting us. I have now completed my seventy-five years of happy living amongst my loved ones and as long as I live I would be satisfied with the love and affection that I have been getting from my own four children and their families.

May God Bless Them All.

OUR MOM AND DAD

They never look for praises
They are never ones to boast
They just go on quietly working
For those they love the most.

Their dreams are seldom spoken
Their wants are very few
And most of the time their worries
Will go unspoken too.

They are there, as a firm foundation
Through all our storms of life
A sturdy hand to hold to
In times of stress and strife.

They’re our true friends to turn to
When times are good or bad

The man and woman we call

Our loving Mom and caring Dad.

It’s one of our greatest blessings

When they love and care for us

The least we can say ‘I love you’

And visit them without any fuss.

(RLP for mothers’ day 2015)

SOME UNIVERSAL TRUTH WHEN THINGS FALL APART

SOME UNIVERSALTRUTH : “THINGS FALL APART”

When I was a high school student I had read a novel, Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, the African writer. It depicted a Nigerian tribal village that was stable for centuries but quickly and utterly crumbled after the arrival of colonialism.

In a heartbeat, things in our life can fall apart and the reality is that they can and do as can be seen from these three of the many true stories.

1.

One of my good friends was standing at a busy intersection waiting for the lights to change. Beside him stood a middle-aged lady and a grey-haired gentleman. We did not expect this glimpse of our mortality.

It was evening rush hour, dusk was upon us and everyone was in a hurry as usual. Traffic whizzed by centimetres from where they were standing, staring across the street at the pedestrian signal. When the lights changed, each of them instinctively began to step off the curb to cross the road.

An instant later, they were all reeling back against each other. A delivery truck, trying to beat the light, sped past them centimetres from the curb and through the intersection against a very clear red light. The wind from the speeding truck slapped their faces. Had they taken another step, one or more of them would have been under the wheels.

The three strangers were brought briefly and intensely together at the intersection and were bonded by their shared close call with death. I heard them briefly counting their blessings by shaking their heads in disbelief at the red-light runner and then hurrying in their separate ways.

Things could have fallen apart for one or all three road users and I could not help but wonder how many centimetres stood between their close and catastrophic adventure? 

2.

Last year when I was in Los Angeles spending my healing time with the family of my brother, things fell apart close to their home. A young lady across the street, a sweet natured, always smiling, high school student was driving home. It was just her routine trip until she came to a dip in the road where water tended to collect but this day because of the freezing temperature the young lady could not judge the hazard of the frozen black snow. When suddenly she applied the brake the car skidded and hit an oncoming truck.

A happy life was forever altered. The lady remained hospitalized with brain injuries and the bereaved parents all helpless and distraught. While their daughter was convalescing in hospital fate put them in even a worse situation when a loaded truck skidded off the pavement and crashed through their bedroom wall, killing them both. Their other two sons who escaped injury were left orphans.

Things fall apart, and many times in ways so incredible as to seem impossible and unbelievable but they are not.

3.

Later that year I went to visit my younger son in Kuala Lumpur and heard this story from the grieving parents. Their three sons went out one evening and after enjoying their time at a nearby restaurant decided to call a taxi to go home but no taxi would come so they decided to go home on foot. It was only a few kilometres of walk home late at night.

There was nothing particularly queer about this but as the brothers were crossing the road near their home a bus ploughed them down. Two of the brothers were instantly killed on the spot but the third brother miraculously escaped unhurt.

Sometimes life can look like a shooting gallery and we become the swimming ducks in the lake. The shots come at random picking off some and sparing others with no pattern or predictability. Of course, there seems no fairness at all.

Therefore, the parents of the brothers still feel that life is many things but fairness is not one of them. Think of the brother who was left behind to prepare to cremate the other two.

Things do fall apart and for the rest of us who are lucky, there is tomorrow to be careful and avoid the circumstances where things do and can fall apart. 

LEADERSHIP WITH A NEW PERSPECTIVE

Leadership with a New Perspective

I am of the opinion that true leadership is a ladder that many have attempted to climb but a few have succeeded. We have community leaders, religious leaders, and political leaders and there are business leaders. All these can be defined as people who manage their domain and are totally in charge of their flock and in doing so they are people who promote prosperity, progress and peace.

I admire many leaders because of their qualities but my greatest admiration goes to that Polish gentleman who defined the very essence of leadership and who grew up to be the shepherd of over one billion Catholics. I am talking about Pope John Paul II for whom leadership seemed to come naturally. It radiated off him and he used it to not only steer his flock but influence presidents, dictators, kings, queens and many ordinary leaders as well as simple people.

The more we study his life the more we find that he had those special qualities that are so hard to define yet so obviously recognizable when you finally see them. He had them all as did the Rev Martin Luther King Jr had them. Just as Mahatma Gandhi had them and Mother Teresa, and Winston Churchill and Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Nelson Mandela, the 14^th Dalai Lama or John F Kennedy had them.

Ever since my College days I have been reading about various leaders and studying their ideas and philosophies. I have agreed with some and disagreed with others and yet I have had a lot of respect for all of them. Even if I disagreed with them, I respected their clarity of convictions.

This pope had a rare charisma, a quality some people described as his special, penetrating, transcendent warmth. That luminosity was hard to resist, winning over even that toughest crowd of all, the teenagers. On his many trips around the globe, these teenagers flocked to him by the thousands and even their parents could only marvel at the magic.

A vocal advocate for human rights, John Paul often spoke out about suffering in the world. He held strong positions on many topics, including his opposition to capital punishment. A charismatic figure, John Paul used his influence to bring about political change and is credited with the fall of communism in his native Poland. He was not without critics, however. Some have stated that he could be harsh with those who disagreed with him and that he would not compromise his hard-line stance on certain issues, such as contraception.

Traditional, old-school Catholics adored John Paul for many of the same reasons that disconcerted his critics. He was the rock star of many people. He was their hero, their voice of conscience and a voice of moral clarity in the wilderness. And this perhaps has proved to be John Paul’s greatest legacy. In a nuanced world of various shades of grey, he rejected relativism and forcefully preached a vision of absolutes.

He told the world what it meant to be Catholic and what was expected of them. We could either agree or disagree with his views but there was no mistaking his overall messages.

John Paul had great respect for all religious groups. John Paul II expressed his admiration for Buddhism: In particular he expressed his highest regard for the followers of Buddhism, with its ... four great values of ... loving kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy and equanimity; with its ten transcendental virtues and the joys of the spiritual association expressed so beautifully in their scriptures. He ardently hoped that his views will serve to strengthen the goodwill between all of us, and that it will reassure everyone of the Catholic Church's desire for inter religious dialogue and cooperation in building a more just and fraternal world.

Many people who were adrift in the muddied turbulence that followed the Church’s reforms of the 1960s were really grateful for the re-direction. Like the father who recognized the need and gave his children indisputable boundaries, Pope John Paul clearly set parameters that Catholics and the rest of the world should live by and just as the children, the faithful found in those strictures stability and comfort.

Of the many reasons I adore John Paul’s leadership qualities is the one where he appeared guided by a moral authority so consistent, so strong and clear that even a nonbeliever could almost accept the Catholic proposition that he was a direct extension of the hand of God. His Holiness indeed was blessed with holiness, with goodness and decency that every leader of my choice should possess.

When the paedophilia scandal swept the church, he was nearly as bereft and violated as the victims themselves. His anguish was palpable. The pope I am admiring as a world leader was so many things: poet, athlete, and academic, philosopher, multilingual intellectual, defender of innocence, crusher of communism, critic of capitalism, champion of the downtrodden and thus became the unstoppable force of peace, progress and prosperity.

Many people have said that he was the greatest gift to the world from heaven because if John Paul disdained communism, he also had plenty to say about the evils of Western affluence, its materialism and decadence. Even as he delighted conservatism, he hammered home many issues dear to the hearts of liberals such as peace, non-violence and economic justice. He forgave the man who tried to kill him. He reached out to Jews and Muslims. He decried the death penalty just as he decried abortion and euthanasia. He definitely understood that if life was sacred, there could be no exception.

In 1995, Pope John Paul II held a meeting with Jains, a sect that broke away from mainstream Hinduism in 600 BC. He praised Mahatma Gandhi for his "unshakeable faith in God", ensured the Jains that the Catholic Church will continue to engage in dialogue with their religion and spoke of the common need to aid the poor. The Jain leaders were impressed with the pope's "transparency and simplicity", and the meeting received much attention in western India, home to many Jains. This was the courage and conviction of a leader who wanted justice for all.

John Paul chastised many presidents of many countries on more than one occasion to stop rushing to go to war. As one listened to him, it was clear he followed only one adviser, one opinion poll and that was his own moral code. If only all leaders could be so pure and do the right things at the right time this world would be a lot safer and peaceful place to co-exist.

He was a remarkable life. Upon the death of John Paul II, a number of clergy at the Vatican and laymen throughout the world began referring to the late pontiff as "John Paul the Great"—only the fourth pope to be so acclaimed and the first since the first millennium. He was certainly greater Alexandra the Great in many aspects of leadership.

I can not help thinking that even after his death, the pope’s leadership still radiates. He showed us how to accept this life with dignity and grace. All the modern leaders- political, religious or communal- have a lot to learn from this great leader. If they are unable to then they would be a lot poorer in their performance.

Dr Ram Lakhan Prasad.

8^th April, 2015.  A decade after his burial ceremony.

1.    Born: May 18, 1920, Wadowice, Poland

2.    Died: April 2, 2005, Apostolic Palace, Vatican City

3.    Buried: April 8, 2005, St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City

KINDNESS SHOWS UP IN UNLIKELY PLACES

KINDNESS SHOWS UP IN UNLIKELY PLACES

I noticed that simple acts of human kindness are often found in the least likely places. John one of my other friends was at an intensive care unit of the hospital after his brother was critically injured in a car accident.

As John kept a round-the-clock vigil, a food -filled cooler mysteriously appeared beside him. There was no name on the cooler and upon enquiry the nurse told him that a woman had left it there for him. That gift sustained John through one of the most difficult times of his life.

Another acquaintance of mine Martin, a retired teacher, found the act of kindness in a busy store at Noosa. The store was jammed with a long line at the register. Martin noticed that a lady behind him had three young children with her and he offered to let her go ahead of him, which she did with pleasure.

When Martin got to the cashier he was told that the bill was already paid for by the woman with the three young children. Martin could not believe it so he got out just in time to thank the lady for being so kind. Her response was that Martin was the one who was being kind by letting her in front in the first place.

Then there is another of my personal stories where an act of kindness was displayed. When we were living at Bushlark Court I was awakened at midnight by the repeated ring of the door bell. When I opened the door, a gentleman was holding the bunch of keys to my house. I had accidentally left the keys dangling from the front door and the passing taxi driver spotted them.

I thanked him and he was quickly on his way but I can think of many things that could have happened if he had not noticed the bunch of keys dangling on my front door and rung the door bell.

Then there is a story of an old man who spoke very little English and was trying without much luck to wrestle a large item he had just bought into his car. I was in the store and as I opened the door to go to help the old man, a strong young man with a large truck changed course and came over to offer his truck and his help. Others joined him and together the group of strangers heaved and lifted the load into the young man’s truck. He then followed the owner home to deliver it.

For all those sceptics, no, the young man with the load of the old man on his truck did not speed off in the opposite direction with the purchase.

When I met that old man after a few days his complaint was that none of the strangers who helped him would accept any reward that he offered them.

Last week I was doing my daily walk around the block and a gentleman was walking ahead of me with a plastic bag. He kept collecting any trash he found on the way. I quickly joined him and shook his hands to thank him and assure him that I will do the same from tomorrow. He just tossed off the thanks by saying he does it all the time.

Just imagine, if every day each person picked up one small piece of litter, what an amazing difference that would make to our environment.

Then a year ago one of my lady friends found this act of kindness when she ran out of petrol on the motorway. She did not have a mobile phone so she sat there for almost two hours while cars passed by. Finally a car with two young men and a woman stopped to find out the problem. Later they returned with a can of petrol and then followed my lady friend to the petrol station.

My friend told me that the boys did not take any money for the trouble they took to help her and she could not stop to sing praise for their kindness.

Finally, I know of a couple who were on vacation but they were hopelessly lost and asked a stranger for direction to their hotel. The stranger not only showed them the way but he drove them right to the hotel’s parking lot. It probably took the stranger many kilometres out of his way.

When they thanked the stranger profusely and said “God Bless You” he turned back to them and said, “Since you said that, could I ask you to pray for me? I have cancer.”

I am sure that the couple would have prayed for the stranger for his act of kindness.

KINDNESS IS CONTAGIOUS

KINDNESS IS CONTAGIOUS

We often hear about exceptionally generous people who would give their best shirt off their back to you but many of us would never believe that anyone would do such a thing until we hear the story of my good friend Anwar.

Anwar’s son Kamaal, who was a final year law student, went to Perth during his semester break. While he was walking to catch a bus with his friends, the strap of one of his sandals broke. He told his friends to proceed without him. Just then another young man whom he did not know stepped forward and asked Kamaal the size of his shoes. The stranger then took off his shoes and handed them over.

He refused payment or an offer to meet up later so that the shoes could be returned. For Kamaal it seemed like a wow moment and the one all his friends are still impressed with. This is one of the stories that my friend Anwar treasures in his book of kindness which he says are contagious.

Anwar’s wife Jamila has a few other stories of charitable acts that she had experienced that intrigued me and restored my faith in the human race. She knows of an eighty-year-old widow in Chapel Hill who requires a wheel-chair to get around. Jamila is amazed at the generosity of strangers who willingly deviate from their business to push her wheel-chair to the place she wants to go.

Jamila too has often assisted her eighty- year- old neighbour who says, “Never in my wildest dreams did I ever expect to be the recipient of so much kindness. I feel like I have a constant guardian angel with me.” 

I was extremely fascinated to witness various such instances of kindness at many workplaces and feel this is the result of good promotion of social and cultural management by our business leaders. I am of the opinion that this type of culture will definitely strengthen our business organizations because our workforce will be composed of considerate and kind human beings.

Good on you people. I salute you and your conduct.

HUMAN GENOROSITY

HUMAN GENOROSITY

We all know something about human generosity and have done or experienced the ultimate act of kindness sometime, somewhere or from someone in our life.

Some two decades ago one of my friends, who was an excellent administrator, narrated his story to me. When he was laid down flat with a bad virus and was hospitalized for a long time he had almost lost all hopes of recovery.

Some people will say that that was no big deal because everyone gets the occasional bug in their life. However, as you will see that this one was altogether different and by the time my colleague found his way to the hospital his life was in jeopardy. The virus had severely attacked his heart and the medical team detected that only a third of it was functioning.

The father of two sons and a devoted wife was placed on a variety of medications but within a few months his heart had wasted away to an even lower functionality. At age fifty he was among the walking dead.

Doctors with the funds from his insurance company arranged his treatment overseas where he was put on a heart-transplant list. There he waited, finding himself in the odd position of hoping for a healthy stranger’s untimely death.

Some seven weeks into his anxious wait, the long awaited phone call came. It was the transplant co-ordinator of the hospital who said that they had located a heart for him.

An athletic man, who worked as a sports administrator, was celebrating his thirty sixth birthday on the premises when he was attacked with a baseball bat. He ended up in a coma and ten days later he was declared brain-dead. In their grief, the person’s siblings agreed to donate his organs. In a few days the medical team at the hospital worked tirelessly to give my friend a new heart and a new life. Within weeks he again had the stamina of a young man and his family began their normal life.

Years passed and my administrator friend could not forget the family that gave him a new life, nor the person whose heart was beating in his chest.

Then two years later he went back to the hospital for a review and at a gathering of transplant recipients and donor families he managed to dig through records to learn the identity of his donor. There he met the brother of his donor.

After a brief introductory exchange of emotional words my friend told the brother of the donor that he was sorry that he had lost his brother but he should be pleased to meet and look at the person who has his heart.

The donor’s brother had lost his brother and he did not know who my administrator friend was and yet he said yes to organ donation. When pressed for reason for the donation, the brother of the donor said that at that time it just made the best sense because the family did not want the organs to be buried in the ground. He explained that his brother was a very giving person and they all knew that if he had a choice he would have gladly agreed.

At this point there was no need for any more words and the two strangers hugged each other with one shared miracle.

From one loss came another life. From one sorrow emerged one solace. This was the gratitude of the deepest human order. It is beyond description and we can only imagine.

Later in life a tragedy struck my friend’s sixteen year old son when he was struck by a car as he rode his bike home from cutting his grandfather’s lawn. The next day after the doctors declared him brain-dead; the family donated the son’s organs to others who could not live without them.

This has been another grieving family’s ultimate gift where human heart beats bravely on with human generosity.