I don’t know about you, but for about 40-60% of my breathing time, I’m wondering what I’m supposed to be doing with this life. I think it’s a first world problem. If we are middle class and therefore above the poverty level, we might be well-fed, have a room over our heads, and have some kind of access to making money and friends. Basic needs more or less covered. (I’m not talking about the poor so bear with me here. I know they exist.) I think a lot of us americans walk around thinking, “What can I do to make the world a better place?”

Sometimes we don’t know what our purpose is. (I sure as hell don’t know mine.)

But don’t you have that inner calling to do something? Something so big that novels are written about you and that when people speak of you, there is a bit of awe on their breath? Or something that simply changes a life, a single life, for the better?

Now in this story, let me introduce my mom. My mom’s not the greatest person in the world; she doesn’t work (due to illness), she doesn’t volunteer, she doesn’t even speak English that well despite being in the country for decades. But she’s MY mom and she tried her best with this confused and unruly uppity american-born brat, and for that she deserves a medal.

6 days ago, my mom had a kidney transplant. My mom has been sick for almost 4 years and to be finally granted a USDA grade kidney and the funds to be able to have the sugery to do it? This was massive. Epic. At least for me and my dad.

However for my run-of-the-mill everyday mother, somebody had to die to give my mom the kidney she now houses in her body.

All we know is that the person who died was about 32 years old and died of sleep apnea and probably was brain dead by the time he/she was transported to the hospital. His/her kidney was transplated within hours of his/her death. He/she had a ‘donor’ mark on their driver’s license.

I know nothing about this person, and the hospital told us it’s best to let the mourning family mourn before we start sending out thank you letters.

But I just wanted to put this out in the universe to that dead person:

I don’t know who you are, or what you did with your living life, but somewhere in the universe’s plans, one of your life’s purposes was to be a hero to me, my dad, and my mom. I hope that somehow wherever you are (if you still can receive this message), you are resting easy and at peace with the fulfillment of this little life’s purpose. You gave us life in your death. There are not enough words for me to express gratitude. I just hope that the lives you have given back to us, that we will be able to fill other people with the same joy you gave us on Monday.

So maybe -dear readers- our purposes lie outside of what we craft. Maybe it lies in us just being alive for each other. Maybe we’re just more intertwined than we can imagine. Maybe our life’s purposes are bigger than we can plot. In any case, somebody’s life’s purpose sure as heck changed my world for the better and somehow, I just hope he/she/it knows that.

Now go out there and you guys live your lives to the fullest!