Some Years I am All About the Free Bananas

One of my favorite team names is Devin’s Got Guts. This is because it works two ways: Devin was incomparably brave. He was also the proud owner of someone else's guts – part of the small intestine, if you want to be specific.

Devin’s family walks alongside Team Jellybean’s Rainbow that honors Lisa who passed away at age 30 while waiting for her third liver transplant and Team Luke whose namesake is 15-year old Luke who died and miraculously extended/improved the lives of 65 others with the gift of several organs and tissue.

Now imagine about a hundred of these teams getting together to walk 3 miles and you have the New Jersey Sharing Network annual 5K Celebration of Life.

It’s an event where death and life and re-life come together. It’s part memorial, part celebration. There are tears, but there is also dancing, and pop-poms, and free bananas. (Thank you, Wakefern Food Corporation!).

My husband and I first heard about the 5K six years ago when he was on the transplant waiting list.

Gravely ill at the time, Jim would get winded getting out of a chair. Participating in a 5K was unachievable. So, in a moment of spontaneous altruism, I reached out and requested for us to be one of the race's sponsors. The race was 4 months away.

Race organizers were pleased but puzzled. Sponsorship is usually a corporate thing. If an individual or family wants to support the cause, they start a team and give that way.

The grim reality was I wasn't sure Jim would live to see the race. If the worst happened, I didn't want to walk alone. At least Jim would get to give while he lived.

By some miracle – because there are just no other words for it – Jim did make it to the race along with his new liver.

He wasn't able to walk that first year. The only place people spring back that quickly from transplant is on TV shows. Instead, he sat in a lawn chair that I lugged from our car. We set up camp under the shade of a big tree and cheered for every, single, solitary person who crossed that finish line.

The 5K is now a family tradition.

We will never field an epic team because we just have too many feels for that. And you just never know when they’ll sneak up on you. At the Long Branch 5K, I saw girls from the same dancing school wearing purple - their girlfriend’s favorite color - to mourn her recent passing and celebrate her gift of life. They were helping each other put up their hair with glittery bows, all while sharing happy stories about their friend. I hoped they didn't see me swabbing at my tears with the back of my hand.

Some other years, I am all about the free bananas.

Gratitude, like grief, is an emotional tidal wave. You don’t always see it coming, but when it comes, it overtakes everything else. I wouldn’t want one of these waves to hit me when a friend showing up to walk calls me for directions to the nearest parking lot.

So, our tiny team of two goes it alone. My husband and I treat it like a date. We go. We walk. We experience. We sometimes go eat lunch afterwards.

But, we never once forget it was someone’s very special gift that allows us to do all that.

See a video of our team here.

Editor’s Note: This story has been edited since originally posted, as I have just learned of young Devin’s recent passing. His bravery continues to inspire.