Taylor's Gift by Tara Storch

T-shirt she wore and how she’d gotten into bed with those big UGG boots on. She wore those boots with everything—even shorts. It used to drive me nuts.
    What I wouldn’t give for her to be wearing them now.

10 Saying Goodbye
    Tara
    â€œHas Taylor ever used drugs?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDid she smoke?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHow much alcohol did she drink?”
    â€œShe’s thirteen, she doesn’t drink alcohol!”
    I knew the woman from Donor Alliance needed to ask these questions, but they were starting to annoy me.
    We had just gotten settled back in Taylor’s room when the people from Donor Alliance asked if we would mind coming to the conference room to answer a few questions and fill out some paperwork. We didn’t want to leave Taylor, but the nurse in the cheerful scrubs said, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.”
    The family members who hadn’t returned to the hotel wanted to be there to support us. So Todd and I, along with my dad, my brothers, Chris and Kary, and Kary’s wife, Juli, all squeezed into the tiny conference room. Todd and I sat in chairs at the table with Myrna, the representative from Donor Alliance, while the others sat in the background or stood along the wall.
    At first, the questions were easy.
    â€œIs she on any medication?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDoes she have any allergies?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHas she ever been to Europe?”
    My patience ran out, and I snapped, “She never had the chance!”
    â€œOkay, it’s okay,” Myrna said.
    I knew she was just doing her job, and she was doing it as compassionately as she could, but each new question was a dagger to my heart, a reminder of what we no longer had. I mourned for all I would miss with her—her first kiss, finding the boy she’d marry, having babies of her own. I folded my arms on top of the table and rested my head on them.
    Todd
    Something happened to us in the meeting with the Donor Alliance representative. Prior to now, Tara and I had both been moving in the same direction, but during this meeting our grieving paths diverged. Tara took the emotional route and became the center of emotive grief for our family. I took the project manager route and became the point person for all the decisions, the paperwork, and managing the information flow. Tara began to check out while I started to clock in. There was a funeral to plan and decisions to make. It gave me something to do .
    It gave me some control.
    â€œDo you just want to give permission for us to take all her organs, or do you want to choose?” Myrna asked.
    â€œWe’re choosing,” Tara said, her head still buried in her arms on the table.
    â€œYeah, we want to choose,” I added. It wasn’t that we wanted her to rattle off the whole list; it’s just that we both needed to feel like we had a choice in something.
    â€œOkay. I’ll read the list, and then you tell me yes or no. Kidneys?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œPancreas?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œLiver?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œEyes?” asked Myrna.
    Though she’d been sobbing on and off through most of the interview, Tara lost it at the thought of Taylor’s crystal blue eyes being taken. “No, no! Absolutely not!” Tara said, horrified.
    â€œNow, let me explain,” Myrna said calmly. “It’s not her eyes; we leave her eyes. It’s just the cornea. It’s the clear layer on the outside. Her eyes will still look the same.”
    I looked at Tara, and I could see how conflicted she was. We both wanted to help others, but I could understand her reluctance. The thought of them touching Taylor’s beautiful eyes was a lot to bear. This one had to be Tara’s decision.
    There was a pause while everyone in the room waited for her to speak.
    â€œOkay, fine,” Tara said. “It’s what Taylor would want.” She put her head