I have to remind her that Sebastian made a conscious choice. He made the decision to be a donor and he would be thrilled that you are getting to live your life and that you have this second chance. … I couldn't change what happened to Sebastian. I couldn't bring him home, but I could honor his choice and his life and say yes to Carol – Gerri Osman
SALT LAKE CITY — Carol Holmes and Gerri Osman have an easy rapport, their banter punctuated by laughter and countless sentences started by one and finished by the other.
“Technically, you have my DNA,” Osman joked. “So if you go robbing a bank or anything …”
“Now there’s an idea!” Holmes quipped, laughing.
But this apparent love and lightness between them belies the tragedy that ultimately brought these two mothers together. Osman, a single mother, lost her only son, Sebastian, after he was hit in an auto-pedestrian accident on Feb. 17, 2006.
In death, giving life
Holmes, a mother of two boys, had been diagnosed with primary biliary cirrhosis, a liver condition. She was on death’s door when she was called to the hospital days after that accident for a possible transplant.
“They told me that if I didn’t get this one, I wouldn’t have more than a few days,” Holmes recalled. “The doctor told Mitch (her husband) that I wasn’t coming home that weekend. It was that close. I was gray. My body was starting to shut down.”
When Sebastian, 16, was struck at the intersection of 1300 East and 700 South, he suffered a traumatic head injury and cardiac death that left him in a permanent vegetative state. At the time, his mother wasn’t a supporter of organ donation, but Sebastian had told her in a conversation just weeks before that he was.
“That kid had a tremendous heart,” Osman said of her son. “He thought about others and how he could help somebody and, that day, he said: ‘If anything ever happens, I support this.’ … He saved lives that day because he took a moment to think of someone other than himself.”
Knowing what her son wanted made it easier for her to make the decision to have him removed from life support and allow his liver and kidneys to be donated. Osman said numerous times how grateful she is that she and Sebastian had that conversation.
“It’s a scary subject for a lot of people,” she said. “I didn’t feel that way at all since Sebastian had taken a moment to talk to me that day. I was able to respect his choice and honor that choice he made.”
He was taken off of life support on Feb. 25, 2006. Osman said she counts herself lucky to have had those eight days to come to terms with what happened.
Hours after his death, Sebastian's liver would bring color back to Carol Holmes.
“I got a good liver,” she said. “It was the perfect one for me. I had been called three times and had to go home."
“The fourth time was the charm for her,” Osman said. “They had rare blood types and she needed that exact blood type. … It was a perfect match.”
Beginning of a bond
Within three weeks, Holmes wrote a letter to her donor’s family.
“I had to write her, to tell the family and her that I was sorry for their loss and thank you and how well I was doing,” Holmes said. “I wanted them to know I was out of the hospital in six days instead of two weeks in the ICU.”
Osman, once reticent about organ donation, became a volunteer for Intermountain Donor Services a few months after Sebastian’s death. She read Carol’s letter, grateful that she wrote it.
“A lot of people struggle with what to write, because thank you doesn’t seem like enough,” Osman said. “Her letter was short and simple. It was one of those things that meant the world to me.”
Holmes made it known early on that she wanted to meet her donor’s family. She prayed every day for the opportunity because she wanted them to see her and know that she was doing well and was so thankful.
Osman, navigating her way through her grief and swiftly becoming a donation advocate and expert, agreed to a meeting in 2008. She met Holmes, who was with her husband and sister, at a downtown restaurant in September of that year.
“I just remember we both just broke down crying — sobbing and hugging each other,” Osman recalled.
“And Gerri kept staring at my stomach,” Holmes said.
“I did," Osman admitted. "I was trying to figure out where the liver was, because it was so surreal, like, Sebastian’s liver is inside of her. It was one of those things when we were crying and hugging that we didn’t even have to exchange words, like you just knew what the other was feeling.”
'What do you say'
The meeting lasted four hours and Osman said she spent a lot of it talking to avoid any awkward silence.
“What do you say to a mother who lost her child?” Holmes asked.
Osman said revealing that she was an only child who had lost her only child, in addition to having parents who had died, made her worry that Holmes would feel more guilt than what was already weighing on her.
“It was like, ‘Why am I here and not Sebastian?'" Holmes said. “You have guilt. Oh, do you have guilt.”
“It’s an annual thing,” Osman said, half-joking. “I get a little rough with her — because I’m like, Sebastian wouldn’t want you to feel bad. I couldn't reverse what happened. I’m so grateful that something positive could happen.
“I never realized that until after I met her that there’s so much guilt for these recipients because they know, they’re literally waiting, and they don’t want somebody to die.”
“But we’re praying for a liver knowing …” Holmes interjected.
“That in order to get one, somebody has to die,” Osman finished.
“Has to lose a loved one,” Holmes added.
“It is a vicious cycle, a vicious catch 22 because in order for them to live, somebody has to pass away and be willing to say yes,” Osman said.
“That’s very hard … to this day,” Holmes said.
“I have to remind her that Sebastian made a conscious choice,” Osman said. “He made the decision to be a donor and he would be thrilled that you are getting to live your life and that you have this second chance. … I couldn’t change what happened to Sebastian. I couldn’t bring him home, but I could honor his choice and his life and say yes to Carol and that meant a lot to me.”
After that initial meeting, the women agreed to stay in touch, but neither imagined they would become as close as they have. Both were quick to add that their closeness isn’t typical for donor-recipient families.
A new family
The month after they met, Holmes invited Osman to a family Halloween party.
“I was staring because it was the first time, for me, that it really clicked,” Osman recalled. “I saw her with her kids and her husband and she’s one of six kids. … It was beyond humbling. It was just this really overwhelming feeling — an overwhelming really good feeling. I had no idea how many people would benefit from this choice. It’s when everything clicked for me.”
For years, Holmes’ son — who was just about 18 months older than Sebastian — couldn’t see Osman without being overcome with emotion.
“Whenever he would see me, he would just break down and cry and hug me,” Osman said.
It is still incredible for her to see the ripple effects of Sebastian's decision and the way it has extended out to those surrounding Holmes. It scares her to think what would have happened if Sebastian had never had that conversation with her about his belief in organ donation, because she thinks she would have said no.
Holmes’ eyes fill with tears when she talks about what her death would have done to her husband and children. They well up, too, when she talks about Sebastian.
Holmes is unequivocal in her love and admiration for the exuberant, life-loving teenager who made it clear that if anything happened to him, he wanted his organs to give life to someone else.
“I’m so grateful for that,” she said.
“This is truly the one positive thing that has been able to come from this situation and I’m grateful — for the years I had with him. … This is the icing on the cake, the thing you never expect you’ll get.”
“Now she’s part of a big, crazy family,” Holmes said.
“That adopted me,” Osman added.
“My sister said she gained another sister,” Holmes added.
“Well, and Sebastian came from me, Carol has my DNA and so she has a part of me also,” Osman said.
A new purpose
Osman now works part time for Intermountain Donor Services as a public speaker and educator, even going to schools and giving the kind of presentations that prompted Sebastian to commit to being a donor. She also works full time as a donor coordinator for Utah Lion’s Eye Bank.
Sebastian’s choice gave her a family, but also a new purpose in life.
“I never anticipated gaining anything from saying yes that day,” Osman said. “I didn’t expect anything. That’s not why I did it. I did it because of Sebastian's choice, and he made it known and I wanted to honor that choice even though I was on the fence about it.
“That was the really great thing about it, is that it has come back to be such a blessing in my life. It’s nothing that I ever anticipated, but it’s kind of the silver lining, the icing on the cake. … It’s been really positive and, in turn, I hope our story helps raise awareness and helps people understand the importance of this topic and the need to talk to your family about it, because you can’t assume that they would know what to do.
"So many families don’t talk about it.”
Both she and Holmes said they speak whenever and wherever they are asked to educate people about organ donation and encourage them to have conversations with their family members.
A need for donors
Dixie Madsen, public education and public relations supervisor with Intermountain Donor Services, said there are 123,000 people waiting for an organ nationwide, with around 29,000 receiving a transplant. Last year, 102 donors in Utah gave organs resulting in 324 transplants.
Currently 773 Utahns are on the transplant waiting list.
“One of our big responsibilities is to educate the public about organ donation and the need for transplants,” she said. “One of the most common misconceptions is that people think if they say yes (to becoming a donor) when they get their driver’s license, then the doctors won’t work as hard to save their life. That blows me away and, of course, it’s not true. But it is one of the most common misconceptions.”
People also rule themselves out due to other health problems, assuming they wouldn’t qualify as a donor, Madsen said. On average, there are 80 transplants a day nationally, but another 100 people are added to the waiting list daily.
Madsen said hearing both of the women's perspectives shows how organ donation can sometimes help both families.
“Not everyone is able to meet a donor recipient family, but the fact that they’ve met and remained close and been able to get together and tell their stories and show both sides makes their story very powerful,” Madsen said.
'Focus on the good'
Osman and Madsen hope sharing their experiences and the impact of Sebastian's decision will help others see the value of organ donation and prompt them to register.
“We’re trying to focus on the good that came from that sad day,” Osman said. “I was going to lose him regardless, why not give someone a second chance on life? It saved me. That day, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do without him. All of a sudden this person I had had with me 24/7 for 16 years was no longer there. What do you do? It was very odd. It was just one of those things. I didn’t have any family. Sebastian was an only child. I am an only child, unfortunately both of my parents are deceased.”
She gestured to Holmes and said: “This is my family. This is my only family.”
Some time after the successful transplant, for which she still undergoes regular checkups, Holmes’ sons told her that there was a time when they wouldn’t come home without first hollering her name or making sure their dad was already there.
“They didn’t want to find me dead,” Carol explained. “That’s how sick I was.”
Now she’s a grandmother of three.
'He's my hero'
“There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t thank Sebastian,” Holmes said. “He’s my hero.”
She said his picture hangs in her home and pops up anytime Osman calls. Still, she struggles with the guilt.
“I have to look at it as Sebastian’s mission was completed and mine’s not,” she said. “That’s how I have to look at it, or else I’d go crazy."
“And I’d have to slap her around more and it would get awkward,” Osman joked, before adding of her son: “He lived a lot of life. He lived more life in 16 years than some 90-year-olds. He just lived life to the fullest. … He loved life, he loved his friends, he loved people, he loved animals, he thrived on what was going on around him.”
And it was his desire to help another that gave his mother a direction, a passion, a cause for which to champion and, of course, a best friend.
“I say Carol and I are like peanut butter and jelly," Osman said. "We go together. I can’t imagine my life without her.”
More information about donation can be found at yesutah.org.
Email: emorgan@deseretnews.com, Twitter: DNewsCrimeTeam