02/22/2026
“Thirty-one years ago, our lives divided into a before and an after. Our 15-year-old son, Frankie, full of joy, music and a tender heart, was swimming when a jet ski struck him. In a moment, everything we knew shattered.
We were rushed to the hospital, grasping for hope and clinging to prayer. Before anyone told me my son’s condition, I was asked to sit down and fill out insurance forms. Then came a question no parent should ever hear: ‘If it comes to this, would you consent to donate his organs?’
My response was immediate: ‘Of course. Absolutely.’ But in my heart I still believed, and still begged, that it would not come to that.
When we were ushered back to a private room, more than 50 people were already there, including family, friends and church members. Within hours, 200 to 300 people filled three floors of the hospital, praying, crying and hoping with us.
In the ICU, we were allowed to play Frankie’s favorite music. At the moment I sensed his time on Earth was ending, one of the songs he had sung with his beautiful tenor voice began to play, ‘Finally Home.’
‘Just think of stepping on shore and finding it heaven. Of touching a hand and finding it God. Of breathing new air and finding it celestial. Of waking up in glory and finding it home.’
As those words filled the room, a nurse came in, shined a small light into his eyes, and in her expression I saw the truth: My precious boy was truly ‘finally home’ in the arms of our Savior. His body remained, sustained by machines, but his soul was already with the Lord, where he will be for eternity until we meet again.
I had to do the unthinkable and tell my husband our firstborn, our only biological child, was gone. We had two beautiful children through adoption, 10-year-old Nicolas and 8-year-old Alyssa, but Frankie was the child I first held in my arms. The child I felt move inside me. The child who made me a mother.
My husband collapsed in shock. He became so ill he vomited as our brothers held him up. We had endured 12 agonizing hours since the accident, 12 hours of pleading, praying and breaking. But the nightmare had only begun. Yet even in those earliest moments of loss, God’s grace carried us.
For 31 years, that grace has never failed us. It held our marriage together when grief threatened to tear it apart. It protected our children from resentment, even when we were drowning in sorrow. It reminded us again and again that God makes no mistakes.
Scripture says, ‘No good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.’ What God calls a good thing may not look or feel good to us in the moment, but we trust him. Over the years, we have seen how Frankie’s life, and even his death, has been used to bring people to Christ. If even one soul came to know the truth of the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus because of our story, then we say: To God be the glory.
The day after Frankie’s passing, we learned that every one of his organs had been donated, including his heart, his eyes, his skin, his tendons and his muscles. We knew two specifics: A 57-year-old woman received his heart, and a 9-year-old child received his liver.
Over the years, I often thought about them. I imagined that woman living with a strong, kind, generous heart. I imagined that child growing with a clean, healthy liver.
Then, after 31 years, God unfolded another miracle. Through a chain of events that only God could orchestrate, through social media, friends, a college professor and providence, the young woman who received Frankie’s liver found us.
She told us she had been searching her entire life. She had even contacted the donation agency and was told, wrongly, that we did not want contact. But God’s timing is always perfect.
When we finally met face to face on a video call, the joy in her eyes and the pounding in my heart were indescribable. She is now 40 years old, beautiful, gentle and full of life. If I could have handpicked anyone on Earth to receive a piece of my son, it would have been her. God blessed us both with a healing we did not even know we still needed.
Frankie’s story did not end in tragedy. It continues in lives saved, in hearts touched, in the gospel shared and in the grace that has sustained us for 31 years. God truly does work all things together for good, just as he promised in Romans 8:28.
And his grace, which was sufficient on the worst day of our lives, remains sufficient still, until the day we meet our son again, finally home.”
