Grief is a fog. Thick, paralysing, and disorienting.
When someone you love dies, especially unexpectedly, the world doesn’t just pause, it fractures. You’re handed forms. Asked questions. Made to choose between options that make no sense when time has lost all meaning. The people around you speak gently, but urgently. “Would they want this?” “Have you considered that?”
And in the swirl of devastation, one of the most profound and confronting questions may be asked:
Would they want to be an organ or tissue donor?
It’s heartbreaking in so many ways. Let’s be honest, that family is living their very worst day. The last thing they want to think about is how someone else might benefit from this loss. Their decision-making ability is impaired by shock, pain, and disbelief.
And yet, in that exact moment, someone else’s life could hang in the balance.
In the ACT, the family consent rate sits at just 45%. That means more than half of families still say no when asked about donation.
But imagine, in that moment of sorrow, being able to reach for something solid, a memory. A conversation.
Your person’s voice, saying clearly: “Yes. I want to be a donor.”
Suddenly, you’re not choosing on their behalf. You’re honouring their decision. And in the depths of that darkness, you hold on to a flicker of light, the knowledge that their story didn’t end here.
That’s legacy. Not being remembered, but giving someone else the chance to keep living.
More than 1,800 Australians are currently waiting for an organ transplant.
14,000 more are on dialysis, many hoping for a kidney.
The list doesn’t include names and stories, but we know some of them are here, in Canberra, waiting for their chance.
And their wait depends entirely on someone else’s yes and someone else’s sorrow.
A Canberra Story of Hope. Heidi’s Story
Heidi Prowse OAM, a long-time health advocate and community leader, knows this deeply. She lived it.
Over the weekend at the Curated x DonateLife Walk, Heidi shared her story, as someone who sat in the trenches of hope and despair while her husband Andy waited for a double lung transplant.
“As the days stretched on without a call for a transplant, my mental health hit an all-time low,” Heidi shared.
“I didn’t recognise it for what it was at the time… I spent days on the couch, immobilised by dread. I couldn’t bring myself to participate in life.”
Andy lived with cystic fibrosis. For those who loved him, every day without ‘the call’ felt like a clock ticking backwards. And yet he kept moving, literally, doing what little exercise he could while tethered to an IV pole. Hope became his discipline.
Heidi found refuge in her role as a netball coach with South Canberra Netball. Her team had made it to the state championships undefeated, and their energy gave her something to hold on to.
Until one day, at the grand final, her mum handed her a phone.
“It’s Andy,” she said.
Heidi grabbed the phone. “Andy? We are warming up for the grand final. What’s up?”
“HB,” he said. “St Vincent’s just called. They have lungs.”
Everything stopped.
In a moment of stillness, the stadium noise, the girls’ nervous chatter, the aching hope, it all folded in on itself.
“Girls, listen up,” Heidi said. “My husband just got the call for a double lung transplant. That means I have to leave. Right now.”
And just like that, she ran.
She didn’t remember what she packed. Andy was waiting at the door, oxygen tank in tow. They drove to the hospital with silence and adrenaline coiled tight in their chests.
And then it hit.
“Someone died today,” Heidi whispered.
Andy nodded. “I know. Their family said yes to organ donation. They might have just saved my life.”
That’s the truth at the heart of every donation. Every saved life is also a moment of loss. But when families choose to say yes, in the darkest, most selfless moment imaginable, something beautiful grows from that pain. Heidi said that day on that drive they sent the family a silent thank you and every single day since.
The transplant was a success.
“Nine days,” Heidi said. “Nine days of tension, tears, and cautious hope. Nine days of watching Andy learn how to breathe again, walk unaided and climb stairs.”
On the ninth day, Andy walked out of the hospital carrying his own bag. Free. Alive. Home.
And behind that moment, somewhere, was a family who said yes.
We Don’t Know Their Names. But We Remember Their Gift
Most organ donors are anonymous. But recipients never forget.
They live with the knowledge that their life came from another’s. They carry it into every breath, every milestone, every ordinary Tuesday. Even on the hard day’s they are reminded to get up and live.
And that is the heart of legacy. It’s not about being remembered in name. It’s about someone else getting to live because you were here.
What You Can Do. Right Now
There are three simple steps to turning your beliefs into legacy:
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Register your decision at donatelife.gov.au.
(It takes one minute. You’ll need your Medicare card.) -
Tell your family.
In their moment of deepest grief, your loved ones shouldn’t have to wonder what you would’ve wanted. Give them the comfort of knowing. -
Talk about it.
Share a post. Join the conversation. Make it normal. Make it generous.
And yes, even if you’ve ticked the box on your driver’s licence, that’s not enough. Only the online register counts.
Let’s Make Canberra the Legacy Capital
We are honestly surprised that such a progressive city is so far behind. Canberra is a city known for public service, progress, and compassion. Let’s add legacy to the list. Let’s be the city where generosity isn’t just something we believe in, it’s something we act on.
Where conversations around death aren’t avoided, but reframed as acts of hope.
Where our community is known not just for its policies, but for its people and the legacies they choose to leave behind.
One day, someone you love might need an organ or tissue transplant.
One day, you might be the one who could give it.
You don’t need to be extraordinary to save a life. You just need to say yes.
Because talking about death is hard. But talking about legacy? That’s a conversation worth having.
Oh… and Heidi said, if you’re wondering, her netball team won the grand final that day too.
For more information or to register your decision, visit donatelife.gov.au
