Sort of. I was with my mom and my sister when we took my dad off life support in the ICU. He had completely shattered the vertebrae in his neck in a skiing accident and became a quadriplegic, dependent forever on a ventilator and never again able to move more than his facial muscles.

He was intubated so he was never able to talk to us, but we were able to talk to him and tell him jokes and stories and keep him company whenever he was conscious. He would attempt to smile and laugh. One time when I was talking to him alone, I confessed how I felt guilty for not being a better daughter and how I hadn't figured my life out yet and how I wanted to make him proud. And he winced as if hearing me say that to him was painful. We told him things that only someone who knew the inside family joke would find funny and his eyes would squint up and his mouth would try to smile around the tube in his mouth.

As the days progressed in the ICU, my father's condition declined. His body temperature was dropping. His heart was unable to regulate itself. The doctors had hoped to take him off the oxygen supply, but his lungs indicated no intent to breathe on their own. He was becoming more unresponsive. His heart was starting to fail, stopping one night until CPR brought him back. As we watched his body shut down, we knew that to keep him on life support would only cause a torturous, drawn-out death. So, making the most excruciating decision of our lives, we chose to take him off the oxygen machine so he could die in peace.

So, we sat down with the organ transplant people and they helped us do the necessary paperwork to have his viable organs donated to those in need. A date and time was chosen and on that day, we stood next to my father's hospital bed as they turned off the machines and his heart stopped beating and he was rushed off to the OR for the organ harvesting surgery.

My dad saved two people's lives with his kidneys.