Wednesday, April 22, 2009

They're bonded by tragedy – a loved one lost in an accident.

For Regina Franklin-Basye, it was her brother, Wayne Franklin, a 51-year-old pastor and former Kansas state official who was killed in a car accident two Aprils ago.

For Theresa Lozada, it was her 49-year-old husband, Senior Cpl. Victor Lozada, who died Feb. 22 of last year after losing control of his motorcycle while escorting Hillary Rodham Clinton to a presidential campaign event in Oak Cliff.

When Franklin-Basye read what happened to Officer Lozada, her heart dropped – and a light went on.

"That took me back to my own brother's accident," she said, adding that she was deeply touched that the officer's family was willing to donate his organs and tissue to enhance or save someone else's life. "I was very interested in hearing what Ms. Lozada had to say."

She sent a note beseeching Lozada to share her painful yet uplifting story with other potential organ donors.

"I wrote her a note, and she wrote back," said Franklin-Basye, a bereavement specialist at Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital Dallas.

On Tuesday, after talking back and forth for several months, they met for the first time as Lozada addressed dozens of hospital and hospice workers.

"It was pretty emotional," Franklin-Basye said. "She had some weepy moments, especially when she started talking about how her husband was really excited to see Hillary Clinton, to get up early, get dressed and report to work."

It's still quite difficult for Lozada to talk about the accident and its aftermath without welling up inside. An interview hours later wasn't easy.

"It's bittersweet, to be honest with you," she said of her campaign to raise awareness of the need for more donors, particularly minorities. "It hurts really bad and yet it feels so good. Something good has to come out of this."

To be honest, it's hard to listen to Lozada without shedding a tear or two. This is a woman, after all, who lost her husband of 27 years.

"Let's put it this way," Lozada told me. "I'd known my husband for 40 years. I was 7, he was 9. We were married for seven years before he was an officer. Then he was on the force for 20 years and a week."

"Even though you see this," she said, referring to the inherent dangers of police work, "and your husband talked to you about it, you just can't imagine ... ."

Her voice trailed off as she choked back tears.

"It's hard," she continued. "I have no regrets. My husband did what he loved to do. But when my 11-year-old is looking out the front door, I know what he's looking for."

Lozada and her four children – now 11, 17, 21 and 23 – all decided that the officer, even in death, would want to do all he could to help his fellow man.

"My husband felt strongly that the kids are the ones that we have to protect," Lozada said. "We have to teach them right from wrong."

The Lozadas taught their children well; they all agreed to donate Dad's organs and tissue.

"My kids felt this was the right thing to do," Lozada said. "They wanted to honor their dad and what he stood for, whether it was feeding the homeless or doing community service with his church."

Because of the circumstances of his death, the officer's organs could not be donated, Lozada said. But so far, at least 18 people have received tissue, tendons, ligaments, bone marrow and other donations.

The only recipient whom Lozada has talked to is Ron Neal, a Tulsa, Okla., police officer who received tissue to repair his right knee.

"It's an honor to carry on his name," Neal said last month.

So Lozada's message, the one she gave to the fourth annual Organ Donation Breakfast at Presbyterian, was heartfelt and straightforward: "Don't be afraid of something that's good."

Families should talk to each other now about what they want to happen should an accident occur. If you want to be a donor, you should sign a donor card, designate that you're a donor on your driver's license and sign up with your state donor registry – donatelifetexas.org.

Why is this all so important? Franklin-Basye's brother always said he wanted to be a donor. But when he died in a rural hospital, no one knew his wishes, no one asked and everyone was distracted by the swirl of events.

"My brother had intended on doing that but it never happened," she said. "He always said he'd want to extend life for someone else."

It is, as the Lozadas will tell you, the ultimate gift, one that can turn tragedy into triumph.