FSF Harvest by Amanda

FSF – Harvest

By: Amanda S. Moores

 As she sat in the soft grass staring at the heart-shaped grave stone, she remembered: the sudden realization, her choked scream, the screeching metal, the blood…so much blood, the high-pitched sirens, the frantic doctors. She remembered her tearful, frenzied attempts to reach the small hand hanging over the edge of the stretcher as the nurses pulled her out of the room. She remembered the flat-line…and the slumped, shaking shoulders of doctors fighting back their own tears. She remembered pieces of the conversation that followed: “…so sorry…loss…difficult decision…time…essence…need to harvest…forms…organ donation…” As she sat in the soft grass staring at the heart-shaped grave stone, she remembered: his first steps, his first words, his first tooth, and she desperately hoped that somewhere someone else’s child would survive to experience those same firsts because of him.