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The day started out normally enough. Ryan was upstairs preparing to leave for school， while his sixyear-old sister， Jamie， waited for him at the front door.
At ten years old， Ryan loved knowledge and seemed to have an abundance of it， far beyond his years. When he was in first grade， the children in his class were asked to draw a picture and answer the question， “If you could be anyone， who would you be？” Ryan wrote： “If I could be anyone， I’d want to be God.” At age seven， while sitting in church one day， he wrote：
The tree of Life， O， the tree of Glory
The tree of God of the World， O， the tree of me
Suddenly， Ryan called out that he had a headache. I went upstairs and found him lying on his bed. By the time we arrived at the hospital he was unconscious. We stood by helplessly as the doctors fought to save his life. A couple of hours later we were finally allowed to see him. He was hooked up to a life support system. When the doctor told us our son had suffered a massive 1）cerebral 2）haemorrhage and was “legally and clinically brain dead，” it felt like a terrible nightmare. We went into shock. Nothing more could be done， the doctor said， and asked if we would consider organ donation. Astonishingly， we had discussed this with Ryan only recently. We looked at each other and simultaneously replied， “Oh yes， Ryan would have wanted that.”
In April， Ryan had seen his dad filling out the organ donor card on the back of his driver’s license. His dad had explained to him about organ donation and how you could help save another’s life by agreeing to donate your organs when you die.
Organ donation made such perfect sense to Ryan， he went on his own campaign persuading the entire family to sign donor cards. We had no doubt that donating Ryan’s organs was the right thing to do.
Then， on a beautiful morning four months after Ryan’s death， the first letter arrived， addressed to my husband and me. As we read it， we both began to weep. It was from a twentyyear-old university student thanking us for our “gift of sight.” He had received one of Ryan’s 3）corneas and could now see again. It is difficult to describe our emotions—we wept， but at the same time， we felt wonderful.
Sometime later we received a second letter from a young woman of thirty who had received one of Ryan’s kidneys and his 4）pancreas. She’d had diabetes since she was five， spending much of her recent years hooked up to a 5）dialysis machine. She told us that because of Ryan， she was now free from 6）insulin and dialysis， able to work again and return to a normal life. Early May brought the painful first anniversary of our son’s death. Then we received our third letter. A young boy of sixteen， born with 7）cystic fibrosis， had received Ryan’s lungs. Without the double lung transplant he received， he would have died. Besides being able to return to school， he was now doing things he had never done before—running， playing hockey and roller blading with his friends. Knowing this boy’s life had been renewed lifted our spirits immensely.
Such joy seemed to come from our sorrow， so much happiness from our loss.
Although nothing could take away our pain， we took great comfort and peace in knowing that Ryan had done something most of us will never do—he had saved lives！
That summer， while on vacation in 8）Haliburton， we met a young man—by sheer coincidence—who had had a kidney and pancreas transplant at the same hospital where some of Ryan’s organs had been transplanted. He knew the young woman who had received her kidney and pancreas on May 2 from a ten-year-old boy he believed to be our son. Her name was Lisa， and she was doing great.
This chance meeting inspired me， and the following spring I decided to share our experiences with others. I faxed my article to three papers， and to my astonishment， all three wanted to feature it！ A flurry of interviews and photo sessions followed， and we experienced an excitement we thought we were no longer capable of.
When the first article appeared， Dale and I were totally overwhelmed when we opened the paper to find that Ryan’s story of hope was the banner story—right on the front page！ Included in the article was the poem Ryan had written when he was seven， just as we had it inscribed on his tombstone. We wept tears of joy and sadness as we read it over and over. In his brief ten years on this earth， our son Ryan had made a difference.
Apparently Lisa also read the article. When she saw Ryan’s poem， she recognized it from a letter we had sent her and realized he was her organ donor. The article said we would be at the Gift of Life medal presentation in Toronto two weeks later， so she decided to attend. Once there， she was unsure about introducing herself. We all wore name tags， and when Lisa found herself standing next to my husband Dale she just couldn’t hold back. You can imagine the emotional scene of hugs and tears that followed！ It was truly a miraculous， unforgettable moment！ It felt so wonderful to see her standing there alive and healthy， knowing that our son had helped make that possible. Ryan’s kidney and pancreas had apparently been a perfect match. And part of him now lives on in her. Moments later， a woman approached us with her eight-year-old daughter. “I think my daughter has your son’s kidney，” she said. Kasia was just four when both of her kidneys had shut down and she had gone on dialysis. The details of her transplant matched， and we all felt certain it must have been Ryan’s kidney that had given this lovely girl a new life. A few weeks later when we visited Ryan’s grave， we wept tears of joy when we found a beautiful drawing left there， signed “Kasia.”
Due to the Canadian 9）confidentiality laws， meetings such as these are very rare， and it is impossible to describe the intense emotions that result. When Ryan died I thought I would never again feel joy. But meeting Lisa and Kasia was a kind of miracle， opening my heart to those feelings I thought had been forever buried with my son.
Today， I now know I will always be the mother of two children. Ryan is， and always will be， part of our family and our lives. Although the pain of losing him will never completely leave me， I have begun putting the pieces of my life back together， though it now takes a different shape.
那天，一切都开始得很平常。赖安在楼上收拾东西，准备去上学，而他六岁的妹妹洁米则在门口等他。
年仅十岁，赖安热爱知识，学识似乎也颇为丰富，远远超过了他这个年纪。在他读一年级的时候，老师要求班上的孩子画一幅画并回答这个问题：“如果你可以做任何人，你想做谁？”赖安写道：“如果我可以做任何人，我想做上帝。”在他七岁时，有一天，他坐在教堂里，写道：
生命之树，噢，光荣之树
世界之神之树，噢，吾之树
突然，赖安大喊头痛。我走上楼，发现他倒在了床上。当我们到达医院时，他已经不省人事。医生在全力挽救他的生命，而我们眼见一切，无能为力。
数小时后，我们终于得到了允许，可以进去看他。他身上连接着生命维持系统。医生告诉我们，我们儿子的脑部大量出血，已经“在法律上和临床上被判定为脑死亡”，那时的感觉就像置身一个恐怖的噩梦当中。我们深受打击。医生说已经尽力了，并询问我们要不要考虑器官捐赠。令人诧异的是，我们最近才和赖安讨论过这个问题。我们看着彼此，异口同声地回答道：“噢，要，赖安会希望这样做的。”
四月的时候，赖安看到他爸爸在驾照的背后填写器官捐赠卡。他爸爸给他解释了器官捐赠的事，告诉他，人死后如何能够通过同意把自己的器官捐赠出去而挽救其他人的生命。
赖安完全理解了器官捐赠是怎么一回事，并开始劝说全家去填捐赠卡。毋庸置疑，把赖安的器官捐赠出去是件正确的事。
然后，在赖安去世四个月后的一个美丽清晨，第一封信到了，收信人是我和我丈夫。当我们读到这封信时，我们俩都哭了起来。这是一名二十岁的大学生寄来的，为了感谢我们赠予他“光明的礼物”。他移植了赖安的一只眼角膜，现在能重见光明了。很难用言语去描述我们的感受—我们一边哭泣，但是同时，我们又感到很奇妙。
然后有一天，我们收到了第二封信，来自一名三十岁的年轻女子，她接受了赖安的一只肾和胰腺。自五岁起，她就一直患有糖尿病，近年来，多数时间都得挂着一台透析机。她告诉我们因为赖安，她现在再也不用注射胰岛素和接受透析，还能够再次工作，过回正常的生活。
五月初，我们儿子去世的第一个痛苦的周年纪念日到了。然后我们收到了第三封信。一个生来就患有囊肿性纤维化的十六岁少年接受了赖安的两只肺。如果他没能接受双肺移植手术，他现在可能已经死了。现在他除了可以重返校园外，还能做许多以前从未做过的事—奔跑、与朋友们玩曲棍球和滑滑轮。得知这个男孩已经重获新生，我们的精神为之一振。
这种喜悦似乎来自于我们的悲伤，这么多的快乐似乎来自于我们的失去。
尽管没有任何东西能够带走我们的伤痛，但是得知赖安做了一件我们大多数人都无法做到的事—他挽救了许多生命，我们的内心得到了极大的安慰和平静。
那个夏天，当我们在哈利伯顿县度假时，我们在一个纯属偶然的情况下遇到了一名青年，他在一家医院接受了肾和胰腺的移植手术，而赖安的一些器官也恰巧被转移到那家医院。他认识那个在5月2号接受了一个十岁男孩的肾和胰腺移植的年轻女子，他相信那个男孩就是我们的儿子。而那年轻女子名叫丽莎，她的状况不错。
这次巧遇鼓舞了我，然后在来年春天我决定把我们的经历与他人分享。我把我的文章传真给了三家报纸。出乎我意料的是，这三家报纸都想将其作为专题文章！一系列的采访和拍照邀约接踵而至，我们心里感受到了本以为再也无法拥有的悸动。
第一篇文章出来了，当我和戴尔打开报纸并发现赖安的希望故事被列为标题故事时—就放在报纸的头版，我们都激动得无法自已。文章里包含了赖安七岁时写的那首诗，也是我们刻在他墓碑上的那首。我们一遍又一遍地阅读这篇文章，流出了混杂着喜悦与悲伤的泪水。在他在世的短短十年里，我们的儿子赖安做了件很了不起的事。
显然，丽莎也读到了那篇文章。当她看到报纸上赖安的那首诗时，她认出这就是我们在寄给她的信里提过的那一首，她意识到赖安就是她的捐赠者。文章中提到我们将会出席两周后在多伦多举办的“生命之礼”颁奖仪式，于是她也决定参加。到了那里后，她不确定要如何介绍她自己。我们都戴着铭牌，当丽莎发现自己就站在我丈夫戴尔旁边时，她再也忍不住了。你可以想象得到那个激动人心的场景，先是拥抱，然后是泪水！那实在是一个不可思议、永生难忘的时刻！看着她充满生气、健健康康地站在那里，知道是我们的儿子使之成为可能，那种感觉是多么的奇妙。赖安的肾和胰腺明显和她十分匹配。现在，他身体的一部分在她的体内继续存活。
过了一会儿，一名女子带着她八岁的女儿走到了我们跟前。“我想我女儿拥有你儿子的一个肾”，她说道。在卡莎四岁那年，她的两个肾都衰竭了，并开始接受透析。她移植手术的细节吻合，我们都很确定准是赖安的肾赋予了这个可爱的小女孩新的生命。几周后，我们去墓地看赖安时，在那里发现了一张美丽的图画，署名人为“卡莎”，我们为此流出了喜悦的泪水。
由于加拿大的保密法，像这样的碰面机会非常罕见，人们也不可能描述出由此而产生的强烈情感。当赖安去世时，我以为我再也不会感到快乐了。但是与丽莎和卡莎的会面就像一个奇迹，打开了我的心房，让我能够再次感受到那些本以为已经随着我儿子永远埋葬了的感觉。
今天，我知道自己永远都会是两个孩子的母亲。赖安是，也一直会是我们家里的一份子，我们生命的一部分。尽管失去他的痛苦永远也不会完全离我而去，但是我已经开始把我生命的碎片重新拼凑起来，尽管它现在的外观有所不同。
At ten years old， Ryan loved knowledge and seemed to have an abundance of it， far beyond his years. When he was in first grade， the children in his class were asked to draw a picture and answer the question， “If you could be anyone， who would you be？” Ryan wrote： “If I could be anyone， I’d want to be God.” At age seven， while sitting in church one day， he wrote：
The tree of Life， O， the tree of Glory
The tree of God of the World， O， the tree of me
Suddenly， Ryan called out that he had a headache. I went upstairs and found him lying on his bed. By the time we arrived at the hospital he was unconscious. We stood by helplessly as the doctors fought to save his life. A couple of hours later we were finally allowed to see him. He was hooked up to a life support system. When the doctor told us our son had suffered a massive 1）cerebral 2）haemorrhage and was “legally and clinically brain dead，” it felt like a terrible nightmare. We went into shock. Nothing more could be done， the doctor said， and asked if we would consider organ donation. Astonishingly， we had discussed this with Ryan only recently. We looked at each other and simultaneously replied， “Oh yes， Ryan would have wanted that.”
In April， Ryan had seen his dad filling out the organ donor card on the back of his driver’s license. His dad had explained to him about organ donation and how you could help save another’s life by agreeing to donate your organs when you die.
Organ donation made such perfect sense to Ryan， he went on his own campaign persuading the entire family to sign donor cards. We had no doubt that donating Ryan’s organs was the right thing to do.
Then， on a beautiful morning four months after Ryan’s death， the first letter arrived， addressed to my husband and me. As we read it， we both began to weep. It was from a twentyyear-old university student thanking us for our “gift of sight.” He had received one of Ryan’s 3）corneas and could now see again. It is difficult to describe our emotions—we wept， but at the same time， we felt wonderful.
Sometime later we received a second letter from a young woman of thirty who had received one of Ryan’s kidneys and his 4）pancreas. She’d had diabetes since she was five， spending much of her recent years hooked up to a 5）dialysis machine. She told us that because of Ryan， she was now free from 6）insulin and dialysis， able to work again and return to a normal life. Early May brought the painful first anniversary of our son’s death. Then we received our third letter. A young boy of sixteen， born with 7）cystic fibrosis， had received Ryan’s lungs. Without the double lung transplant he received， he would have died. Besides being able to return to school， he was now doing things he had never done before—running， playing hockey and roller blading with his friends. Knowing this boy’s life had been renewed lifted our spirits immensely.
Such joy seemed to come from our sorrow， so much happiness from our loss.
Although nothing could take away our pain， we took great comfort and peace in knowing that Ryan had done something most of us will never do—he had saved lives！
That summer， while on vacation in 8）Haliburton， we met a young man—by sheer coincidence—who had had a kidney and pancreas transplant at the same hospital where some of Ryan’s organs had been transplanted. He knew the young woman who had received her kidney and pancreas on May 2 from a ten-year-old boy he believed to be our son. Her name was Lisa， and she was doing great.
This chance meeting inspired me， and the following spring I decided to share our experiences with others. I faxed my article to three papers， and to my astonishment， all three wanted to feature it！ A flurry of interviews and photo sessions followed， and we experienced an excitement we thought we were no longer capable of.
When the first article appeared， Dale and I were totally overwhelmed when we opened the paper to find that Ryan’s story of hope was the banner story—right on the front page！ Included in the article was the poem Ryan had written when he was seven， just as we had it inscribed on his tombstone. We wept tears of joy and sadness as we read it over and over. In his brief ten years on this earth， our son Ryan had made a difference.
Apparently Lisa also read the article. When she saw Ryan’s poem， she recognized it from a letter we had sent her and realized he was her organ donor. The article said we would be at the Gift of Life medal presentation in Toronto two weeks later， so she decided to attend. Once there， she was unsure about introducing herself. We all wore name tags， and when Lisa found herself standing next to my husband Dale she just couldn’t hold back. You can imagine the emotional scene of hugs and tears that followed！ It was truly a miraculous， unforgettable moment！ It felt so wonderful to see her standing there alive and healthy， knowing that our son had helped make that possible. Ryan’s kidney and pancreas had apparently been a perfect match. And part of him now lives on in her. Moments later， a woman approached us with her eight-year-old daughter. “I think my daughter has your son’s kidney，” she said. Kasia was just four when both of her kidneys had shut down and she had gone on dialysis. The details of her transplant matched， and we all felt certain it must have been Ryan’s kidney that had given this lovely girl a new life. A few weeks later when we visited Ryan’s grave， we wept tears of joy when we found a beautiful drawing left there， signed “Kasia.”
Due to the Canadian 9）confidentiality laws， meetings such as these are very rare， and it is impossible to describe the intense emotions that result. When Ryan died I thought I would never again feel joy. But meeting Lisa and Kasia was a kind of miracle， opening my heart to those feelings I thought had been forever buried with my son.
Today， I now know I will always be the mother of two children. Ryan is， and always will be， part of our family and our lives. Although the pain of losing him will never completely leave me， I have begun putting the pieces of my life back together， though it now takes a different shape.
那天，一切都开始得很平常。赖安在楼上收拾东西，准备去上学，而他六岁的妹妹洁米则在门口等他。
年仅十岁，赖安热爱知识，学识似乎也颇为丰富，远远超过了他这个年纪。在他读一年级的时候，老师要求班上的孩子画一幅画并回答这个问题：“如果你可以做任何人，你想做谁？”赖安写道：“如果我可以做任何人，我想做上帝。”在他七岁时，有一天，他坐在教堂里，写道：
生命之树，噢，光荣之树
世界之神之树，噢，吾之树
突然，赖安大喊头痛。我走上楼，发现他倒在了床上。当我们到达医院时，他已经不省人事。医生在全力挽救他的生命，而我们眼见一切，无能为力。
数小时后，我们终于得到了允许，可以进去看他。他身上连接着生命维持系统。医生告诉我们，我们儿子的脑部大量出血，已经“在法律上和临床上被判定为脑死亡”，那时的感觉就像置身一个恐怖的噩梦当中。我们深受打击。医生说已经尽力了，并询问我们要不要考虑器官捐赠。令人诧异的是，我们最近才和赖安讨论过这个问题。我们看着彼此，异口同声地回答道：“噢，要，赖安会希望这样做的。”
四月的时候，赖安看到他爸爸在驾照的背后填写器官捐赠卡。他爸爸给他解释了器官捐赠的事，告诉他，人死后如何能够通过同意把自己的器官捐赠出去而挽救其他人的生命。
赖安完全理解了器官捐赠是怎么一回事，并开始劝说全家去填捐赠卡。毋庸置疑，把赖安的器官捐赠出去是件正确的事。
然后，在赖安去世四个月后的一个美丽清晨，第一封信到了，收信人是我和我丈夫。当我们读到这封信时，我们俩都哭了起来。这是一名二十岁的大学生寄来的，为了感谢我们赠予他“光明的礼物”。他移植了赖安的一只眼角膜，现在能重见光明了。很难用言语去描述我们的感受—我们一边哭泣，但是同时，我们又感到很奇妙。
然后有一天，我们收到了第二封信，来自一名三十岁的年轻女子，她接受了赖安的一只肾和胰腺。自五岁起，她就一直患有糖尿病，近年来，多数时间都得挂着一台透析机。她告诉我们因为赖安，她现在再也不用注射胰岛素和接受透析，还能够再次工作，过回正常的生活。
五月初，我们儿子去世的第一个痛苦的周年纪念日到了。然后我们收到了第三封信。一个生来就患有囊肿性纤维化的十六岁少年接受了赖安的两只肺。如果他没能接受双肺移植手术，他现在可能已经死了。现在他除了可以重返校园外，还能做许多以前从未做过的事—奔跑、与朋友们玩曲棍球和滑滑轮。得知这个男孩已经重获新生，我们的精神为之一振。
这种喜悦似乎来自于我们的悲伤，这么多的快乐似乎来自于我们的失去。
尽管没有任何东西能够带走我们的伤痛，但是得知赖安做了一件我们大多数人都无法做到的事—他挽救了许多生命，我们的内心得到了极大的安慰和平静。
那个夏天，当我们在哈利伯顿县度假时，我们在一个纯属偶然的情况下遇到了一名青年，他在一家医院接受了肾和胰腺的移植手术，而赖安的一些器官也恰巧被转移到那家医院。他认识那个在5月2号接受了一个十岁男孩的肾和胰腺移植的年轻女子，他相信那个男孩就是我们的儿子。而那年轻女子名叫丽莎，她的状况不错。
这次巧遇鼓舞了我，然后在来年春天我决定把我们的经历与他人分享。我把我的文章传真给了三家报纸。出乎我意料的是，这三家报纸都想将其作为专题文章！一系列的采访和拍照邀约接踵而至，我们心里感受到了本以为再也无法拥有的悸动。
第一篇文章出来了，当我和戴尔打开报纸并发现赖安的希望故事被列为标题故事时—就放在报纸的头版，我们都激动得无法自已。文章里包含了赖安七岁时写的那首诗，也是我们刻在他墓碑上的那首。我们一遍又一遍地阅读这篇文章，流出了混杂着喜悦与悲伤的泪水。在他在世的短短十年里，我们的儿子赖安做了件很了不起的事。
显然，丽莎也读到了那篇文章。当她看到报纸上赖安的那首诗时，她认出这就是我们在寄给她的信里提过的那一首，她意识到赖安就是她的捐赠者。文章中提到我们将会出席两周后在多伦多举办的“生命之礼”颁奖仪式，于是她也决定参加。到了那里后，她不确定要如何介绍她自己。我们都戴着铭牌，当丽莎发现自己就站在我丈夫戴尔旁边时，她再也忍不住了。你可以想象得到那个激动人心的场景，先是拥抱，然后是泪水！那实在是一个不可思议、永生难忘的时刻！看着她充满生气、健健康康地站在那里，知道是我们的儿子使之成为可能，那种感觉是多么的奇妙。赖安的肾和胰腺明显和她十分匹配。现在，他身体的一部分在她的体内继续存活。
过了一会儿，一名女子带着她八岁的女儿走到了我们跟前。“我想我女儿拥有你儿子的一个肾”，她说道。在卡莎四岁那年，她的两个肾都衰竭了，并开始接受透析。她移植手术的细节吻合，我们都很确定准是赖安的肾赋予了这个可爱的小女孩新的生命。几周后，我们去墓地看赖安时，在那里发现了一张美丽的图画，署名人为“卡莎”，我们为此流出了喜悦的泪水。
由于加拿大的保密法，像这样的碰面机会非常罕见，人们也不可能描述出由此而产生的强烈情感。当赖安去世时，我以为我再也不会感到快乐了。但是与丽莎和卡莎的会面就像一个奇迹，打开了我的心房，让我能够再次感受到那些本以为已经随着我儿子永远埋葬了的感觉。
今天，我知道自己永远都会是两个孩子的母亲。赖安是，也一直会是我们家里的一份子，我们生命的一部分。尽管失去他的痛苦永远也不会完全离我而去，但是我已经开始把我生命的碎片重新拼凑起来，尽管它现在的外观有所不同。