Two o’clock in the afternoon of January 3, 1999, was a moment my family would never forget. It was at that moment that my stout-hearted old father, without shedding any tears, helped his beloved son complete the most significant task of his life--organ donation. “If my son cannot be saved, let him save others,” said my father.

While we were mournful and reluctant to part with our dearest brother, we still had to face up to the blame laid on us by relatives for our decision to donate our brother’s organs. We had no idea what “giving” really meant, but we knew that if our brother’s organs could save other people’s lives, then we should donate them without a second thought.

My younger brother left this world in such haste that he didn’t have enough time to contribute much to society. Nevertheless, his organs remain alive in other people’s bodies. Isn’t that another way of recreating life? By doing so, he is still prolonging his life in the world.

--Liu Hsiu-hua

When Liu Chung-cheng’s life drew to an end, his family said farewell with the hope of meeting him again. “Chung-cheng, my parents’ only son, always showed respect to his father,” remembered his older sister, Hsiu-hua. “Each time he left home, he would say good-bye to his father, but… the last time he left home, he didn’t come back again.”

Chung-cheng was a truck driver at a slate factory in Hualien. On January 3, 1999, the workers who normally loaded the truck were off for the New Year holiday, so Chung-cheng did it instead. While standing on the back of the truck, the inexperienced young man dropped the bulky, heavy slabs of rock on his feet and then fell backward off the truck to the ground.

He was rushed to Hualien Tzu Chi Hospital. The trauma left him in a critical condition and with unstable vital signs. When his sisters, Hsiu-hua and Hsiu-hsiang, hurried into the hospital, the doctor shook his head regretfully. Hsiu-hua begged the doctor in tears, “Please save him, no matter what it takes.” Hesitantly, the doctor performed an emergency operation, but Chung-cheng slipped into a coma.

When the sisters returned home, their seventy-year-old father was eating lunch with a bowl of rice in his hand. “Chung-cheng is… is… The two sisters could hardly speak, and tears just kept rolling down their cheeks. Their father could tell that something serious had happened.

Softly he said, “So Chung-cheng is in critical condition now? It doesn’t matter if he loses one or two of his limbs. But if he turns into a vegetable, he will become a huge burden to society. In that case, we’d better let him go!”

Slowly Hsiu-hua mustered her courage and asked, “Dad, if he cannot be saved, would it be all right to let him save others?”

Unexpectedly, he answered, “Fine with me. Tell the doctor that we agree to donate any of his organs if someone else needs them.” Then he resumed eating his rice, one grain after another, and eventually he finished the whole bowl.

Chung-cheng’s life came to an end. He was only 38 years old.

“Donate whatever can be used!”

Five years have passed….

Walking along a busy street, Hui-eh, Chung-cheng’s wife, can still feel the heartache whenever a truck drives past her. She still recalls on starry nights how she and her husband would stop their truck at a service area on the freeway and sing and sleep through the night until the sun rose the next morning. The small driver’s cab, simply a workstation where they spent their time together during every delivery, was filled with unforgettable sweet memories.

“I hurried to the hospital with my children after the accident. My heart bled when I saw him in a coma. It never occurred to me that his sisters would bring up the idea of donating his organs on the spot.” Grief-stricken and knowing her two children were losing their father, Hui-eh found it unbearable to think about accepting the suggestion. (Chinese traditionally believe that a person’s body should be buried whole and entire.)

Hsiu-hsiang has been keen in absorbing medical knowledge. In 1996 when her father was inflicted with colon cancer, she thought of his getting a transplant. “But it was a shame that no one ever received a colon transplant; otherwise, Dad could have been healed.” Perhaps, it was this strong sense of empathy that made her immediately think about donating her brother’s organs.

Originally, the two sisters were worried that their father would not accept the idea. Instead, old Mr. Liu courageously supported it.

Reluctant as she was, Hui-eh had little to say since her loving father-in-law had given his consent. Tearfully and sorrowfully, she signed the donation consent form, giving away her husband’s cardiac valves, kidneys, and corneas. (In Taiwan, the donor’s entire family must give their consent.) She couldn’t bear to sign again when asked to donate his long bones, but then Mr. Liu said, “Donate whatever can be used. Nothing will be useful after he is cremated.”

On hearing this, everyone was stunned at first and then broke into tears.

Hsiu-hua said, “My father didn’t shed a single tear during the whole time my brother was in a coma, when his organs were donated, and even later at the funeral. After the funeral, however, he was often found standing by the road which his son had taken, watching vehicles pass by in tears as if waiting for my brother to return.”

Model husband and father

When she was 15, Hui-eh married Chung-cheng, who was three years older. They had much in common, which brought them even closer together: they both lived in Hualien, came from single-parent families, and lived with their fathers. As an affectionate and thoughtful husband, Chung-cheng often visited his father-in-law with his wife on weekends and had a good chat with her brother, who was also a car enthusiast.

Chung-cheng used to help his father in the ice block business. When he got out of the army, his father and two sisters chipped in to help him buy a truck so that he could run a delivery business.

Hui-eh complimented her husband on his driving ethics: “When it comes to truck driving, the government should have given him an award. He never honked his horn unless necessary, he always gave way to other vehicles, and if he had a drink, he would never drive.”

Hsiu-hsiang also had some memories of her brother’s childhood. Their parents were divorced when Chung-cheng was only seven, which hurt him badly. He always locked himself in his room when he saw his classmates and neighbors being cared for by their mothers. He then turned to his two sisters, who were two and four years older than him, to satisfy his desire for motherly affection.

One day after an argument with his sisters, the young Chung-cheng left home angrily. Before he went out, Hsiu-hua asked him, “Why are you taking the umbrella and the canteen?” He answered, “I’m taking the umbrella in case it rains and the canteen in case I get thirsty.” He then “left home” to go roam around the neighborhood. The episode only lasted for a couple of hours.

Apart from his sisters’ love and concern, Chung-cheng also had a model father to look up to. Hsiu-hua said, “Dad rarely attended wedding banquets, but he would express his congratulations by sending gift money. However, if there was a funeral, he would always attend to console the family. When we were watching TV together, Dad would grasp every chance to preach about the importance of helping others and doing worthy deeds.”

Hui-eh also said, “My father-in-law is always kind to me. No matter how uncomfortable he feels, he never says a word. When someone asked him why, he said that he didn’t want to bother his daughter-in-law. He is indeed a person that I look up to!”

When Chung-cheng’s life was coming to an end, Mr. Liu helped him perform the most valuable task of his life--organ donation. “Perhaps it was the donation that led my father to realize the meaning and the hope of life,” Hsiu-hua said. “He no longer worried about whether his grandchildren would have a home to live in or if his daughter-in-law would be able to sustain herself after he died. Instead, he became concerned about whether we could donate his body after his death for medical research.”

Seven months after Chung-cheng died, Mr. Liu passed away. He bequeathed his body to Tzu Chi Hospital for medical research.

Hsiu-hsiang said to Hui-eh jokingly, “One day if a passer-by casts a loving glance at you, chances are he’s the person who’s using Chung-cheng’s corneas.”

The death struck a heavy blow to the whole family, like a planet pushed out of its orbit, but the organ donation brought the family a new outlook on life. In this parting, they’ve come to appreciate the Buddhist notion that “nothing has ever been created or destroyed.”

Brave Champions of Life

By Chang Mei-ju
Social worker, Hualien Tzu Chi Hospital

I still recall the weird atmosphere when I walked into the hospital counseling room. Chung-cheng’s sister, Hsiu-hua, and his wife, Hui-eh, had very different reactions to the question of whether his organs were to be donated. Hsiu-hua insisted on helping her brother leave his love behind, while Hui-eh sobbed miserably with her reluctance to give her husband’s organs away. I could feel she was really having a difficult time.

The two were crying and talking. When she had signed the consent form, Hsiu-hua stood up abruptly and told me, “It’s too painful! I don’t want my family members to suffer like this in the future. Please give me another form. I want to sign up for myself now!”

As soon as she got it, she turned to her husband and said, “If I go first, all you have to do is support my decision by donating my organs. You don’t have to bear so much pressure.”

As a social worker in the hospital, I had dealt with many organ donation cases before. Nevertheless, at that moment I clearly heard every single heartbeat of mine, as if I had begun to realize the true meaning of life right there.

I had known Chung-cheng’s father, Liu Shih-tsun, since I started to work in the Tzu Chi Hospital in 1997. Mr. Liu was hospitalized then for colon cancer. Sometimes I forgot he was a patient because of his optimistic and positive attitude toward life. He often attended gatherings held by the Patients’ Association, where he was always willing to share his experience with others and even demonstrated how he cared for himself after the colostomy. He was a great help to the nurses and an inspiration to other patients.

Chung-cheng was in critical condition when he arrived at the hospital, so the volunteers there arranged the Buddhist rites for him. At that time I was working in the ICU, where his family was accompanying him to the end. Suddenly Hsiu-hua blurted, “Mei-ju, could you give me a hug?”

“No problem,” I said. I stepped forward and gave her a big hug. I could feel her leaning against me with relief. Tired and physically weak as I was, I tried hard to give her support, which I knew she wanted desperately. It was something her family could not offer at that time.

Chung-cheng’s father looked haggard, but his intention of helping others remained uppermost in his mind. He kept telling us, “If my son cannot be saved, let him save others.”

Chung-cheng became an organ-giving bodhisattva. Later, whenever Mr. Liu came back to the hospital for check-ups, I would chat with him. Several months later, he followed in his son’s steps by donating his body for medical research.

His funeral, held in the Buddhist Chanting Room at Tzu Chi Hospital, was simple and solemn. I went there to bid him a last farewell. Hsiu-hua prayed to him right there and asked him to bless me to find my future Mr. Right. I told her not to bother him with a trivial thing like this!