Gratefully Yours

A year after a transplant, the recipient writes to the donor's family

9 March, 2026

Dear Louisa and George,

To begin with, I want to acknowledge that today is likely a difficult day for you. It has been a year since you and your family lost your son, Harry. I cannot begin to imagine how difficult this must have been for you or the extent of your grief in the year that has passed. My heart – which is, in fact, Harry’s heart – is wholly with you on this day.

Because yes, I am the lucky one who received both Harry’s heart and one of his kidneys. It is probably small solace to you, but Harry’s death has allowed me to live. And for that, I will be eternally grateful. So, while Harry’s death was senseless and no doubt viciously painful for you, he did not die in vain.

My name is Saskia and I was born with a rare heart condition. I didn’t know this and it was not caught until I went into cardiac arrest during an audition when I was nineteen. By this stage, I was actually in an advanced stage of heart failure and my kidneys were on their way out too.
As you can imagine, this was a huge shock to discover. I’d had no symptoms of either heart disease or kidney failure (as far as I know) up until this point, so I had been living my life as if I was just like every other girl my age. Or, as close to that as anyone who is pursuing ballet as a career can.

I’m a dancer.

I was accepted at a prestigious ballet school at just thirteen and had recently graduated when I discovered my condition. I was in the process of auditioning for companies, in fact. I was midway through an audition with the San Francisco Ballet when I had what I call “my incident”.

At first I thought it was just nerves, although nerves had never made my heart beat so fast and irregular as this. So, I tried to dance through it. Ballet dancers are used to pain and discomfort; it’s not easy on the body. But the pain, when it hit me, was unlike anything I’d felt before. It was like someone took a sledgehammer to my chest and the shockwaves rolled through my entire body.

Stupidly, I tried to dance through even that. Smiling, no less. Until I blacked out.

Next thing I knew, I was in an ambulance and people were shouting all around me. I didn’t know it then, but I actually died for a minute or two. They managed to get me back though. I’m not sure if it’ll be reassuring or not, but I didn’t see any white light or hear the voices of my dead grandparents calling me to them. Or, if I did, I don’t remember it.

I don’t remember a lot of the next little while, I’m afraid. It’s all kind of patchy and disconnected. But, long story short, they got me stabilised enough that they figured I wouldn’t die in the next few days and started looking for donors. My mom wanted to give me one of her kidneys, but we weren’t a match. Neither were my dad or my brother. Weird, huh? We’re family, so should share enough genetic information that one of them would match, but no… No one in my family was a close enough match.

Which is where your son entered the story. Because his tissue matched mine.

I don’t know a lot about him other than the fact he was killed in a drunk driving accident just outside Philadelphia. The city was important because I was in San Francisco at the time (I’m actually from New York, but was auditioning for companies on the West Coast) and there was a lot of discussion around whether the organs would get across country fast enough to be viable.

They did.

And in an epic surgery, the doctors managed to remove both my malfunctioning heart and my dying kidneys, then replaced them with the organs your son no longer needed.

I am grateful each and every day for the precious gift Harry gave me. And to you both for allowing him to give that gift to me. The gift of life.
Without those pieces of Harry, I’d be dead right now. Nineteen is too young to die. I know Harry was even younger – seventeen, I think the doctors said – and that’s too young too. Far too young.

I’ve been given a second chance now, and that’s not something I take lightly. My life is so much more important now than it was before. Not only do I need to live for myself, I need to live for Harry too. I need to make sure this life I’ve been gifted is one that’s worthwhile.

I went back to ballet not long after the transplants. It was hard to get back into fighting shape, but I worked hard. Within a few months I felt as strong as I ever did, maybe even stronger. I like to think it’s Harry’s heart that gave me that extra strength to jump higher than I ever could before, to do more pirouettes than I was previously capable of.

Three months ago, I was accepted as a chorus member of the New York City Ballet. I make my debut in their production of Romeo & Juliet next month.

Dancing in a ballet company has been my dream since I was a little girl of four, taken to see The Nutcracker like so many little girls at Christmas. And now that my dream is coming true, I want to share that with you. Enclosed are two tickets to the opening night, seated with my parents because you are the parents of such important parts of me – the parts that keep me alive.

I do hope to see you there so I can thank you in person for giving me this life.

Gratefully yours,

Saskia Reeves.