Oliver's gift of life

It was a Sunday afternoon when I received a call that Oliver, my youngest son, was in an induced coma in Auckland. He had fallen and hit his head while at the beach and his friends had found him in the water and given him CPR. The doctors did not know at the time the extent of his oxygen deprivation and brain damage.

My wild, beautiful, 31 year old son had just visited me from the USA, where he worked as a director of cinematography. Oliver was a warm, inclusive person with a great creative mind. He was a brilliant, funky, witty and an unconditionally loving person who gave the best bear hugs ever.

Oliver with camera
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I had a chicken in the crock pot and when my relatives arrived, I said to them that they were going to have to get their own dinner as I was going off for a heart transplant.

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