Genevieve Tay Juey Tong, 13

School: Raffles Girls' School (Secondary)

Topic: Journey of a transplanted organ

The Gift of Sight

For as long as I could remember, my owner loved the world around him. Whenever the light from the golden sunset shone through me and I focused it on his retina, I could sense the quickening of his pulse and feel the rush of red blood cells. Friends and family would praise the “sparkle in his eyes”, and I would bask in the compliments. I faithfully conveyed his world to him — fireworks bursting into the night sky, his beautiful children playing in the playground, the glare of the stage lights at their graduation — and felt him respond to them with awe, joy, and pride. I felt tears of laughter, grief, and relief over the years too. Human beings cried so often; perhaps that was what made them beautiful, and they called me the “window to the soul”.

However, one stormy night, everything changed. Machines beeped irregularly around us as my owner lay motionless in the ICU. I felt his breaths becoming shallower with every passing second, like a flickering flame threatening to be suddenly extinguished. Beside him stood his mother, whom I recognised from years of interaction. Her eyes overflowed with tears, cascading down like a gushing waterfall as she clutched his hands tightly, as though refusing to let him go.

Slowly, darkness swallowed the whole room. Colours blurred into shadows while the woman’s desperate cries faded into silence. I resigned myself to my fate, believing that my time was up, together with my owner’s.

For what seemed like an eternity, I drifted through endless emptiness where time no longer felt real. Memories floated endlessly through me. I remembered the flickering city lights reflecting against rivers as he leaned against the jetty. I remembered the warm sunlight filtering through autumn leaves as he ran along the path of fallen leaves. I remembered the streaks of purple and pink across the morning sky as he stood by the balcony. Although my owner was gone, fragments of our memories together still lingered inside me.

Suddenly, voices shattered the silence.

“The cornea seems healthy; prepare for transport.”

“The recipient is ready.”

Recipient? The word echoed in my mind. Was this my new lease of life?

I sensed people carrying me, pounding footsteps vibrating through me. Fear slowly crept into me. What if the new body rejected me? What if I failed?

Before I could dwell on those thoughts any longer, I felt people moving about frantically around me. Somewhere in the room, my new owner waited anxiously for a second chance to see.

Oddly enough, the loss of my owner did not sadden me as deeply as before.

The surgery felt strange. No pain, some tugging at my edges, the wetness of the drops. Finally, light returned.

Initially, I felt bloated and not quite attached to my new home. The world appeared blurry and distorted. My new owner blinked involuntarily as the doctor leaned over him. “Can you see me clearly?” For a moment, the man sat silently, taking in the sights around him. “I can see so much better, but it is still blurry.” Those few words trembled with hope.

Over the next few months, his vision improved gradually. The world grew sharper as I got comfortable in my new home and got better at focusing the light on his retina. My new owner treated everything like a miracle, delighted at the return of this vital sense. Sunlight shining on emerald leaves, steam curling from hot soup, even raindrops streaking down windows, and especially his daughter.

For so many years, he could only see a vague shadow of her silhouette. How he loves the sight of her cute little dimples and bright sparkling eyes now. Now he just cannot stop staring at her, as though afraid she would disappear if he looked away, even for a second. I could feel the tears welling up around me as he gazed lovingly at her.

“Papa, look at my drawing!” He gazed at the rainbow she had drawn with her crayons. Now he can do so much more together with her and no longer misses seeing her grow up. Truly, having me transplanted into his eyes was like a rainbow at the end of a dark blinding storm.

My first owner’s life may have ended, but mine has not. His kindness has brought light to another’s life, and my mission continues. There is so much more to see and experience. The gift of sight — what a wondrous gift he has given.

Disclaimer: Please note that the views and opinions expressed in the essays for the Live On Festival 2026 are those of the participants and are not endorsed by the National Organ Transplant Unit (Ministry of Health).

To learn more about organ donation and organ transplantation in Singapore, please visit www.liveon.gov.sg ↗ (opens in new tab)