She turned toward me.
“His heart. His skin. His eyes. Pieces of my son are going to strangers.”
“They don’t transplant whole eyes.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Corneal tissue can sometimes be donated.”
She gave a bitter laugh.
“Does using a medical term make it less horrible?”
“No.”
Her face crumpled.
“How am I supposed to live knowing pieces of my child are somewhere with people I’ll never meet?”
“Because Mark chose it.”
“You agreed.”
“Yes.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me.”
I could feel my own anger rising.
“Honoring what he wanted doesn’t mean losing him hurt less.”
Violet looked down at my belly.
Then she said the thing that would stay with me for weeks.
“You still get part of him.”
My hand immediately moved over Cecelia.
“Don’t.”
Her eyes lifted.
“Don’t what?”
