She looked at me.
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“His heart. His skin. His eyes. All of those things are going to strangers.”
“They don’t transplant someone’s whole eyes.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Corneal tissue can be donated.”
She laughed bitterly.
“All of those things are going to strangers.”
“Does the nicer phrase make it easier?”
“No.”
Her mouth trembled.
“How am I supposed to be okay knowing something that belonged to my son is walking around with strangers?”
“Because Mark was okay with it.”
“You agreed with this.”
“Does the nicer phrase make it easier?”
“Yes. That doesn’t mean it was easy, Violet.”
She looked at my stomach.