Chia Yihan, 14

School: Yusof Ishak School (Secondary)

Topic: Journey of a transplanted organ

One Last Sunset

One gloomy night, it started pouring heavily onto the dark roads as cars rushed past one another. Thunder rumbled loudly while flashes of lightning lit up in the darkness for a few seconds at a time. Inside a small black car, Annie drove, humming softly to her favourite song on the radio. I watched everything through her eyes as she admired the blurry city lights out the window. I was Annie’s cornea; the clear part of her eyes that helped her see her world.

For twenty-one years, I had watched Annie grow up. I saw her first day of school. I saw her laughing with her friends during high school, crying quietly after arguments, and smiling proudly when she got into her dream university.

Annie loved sunsets the most. Every evening, she would stop by her neighbourhood’s park just to admire the sky glowing in shades of orange, pink, blue, and purple. “It looks like a painting!” she exclaimed. Moments like this filled me with warmth as I knew I was a part of Annie’s reasons for enjoying life.

However, that peaceful night soon turned into a nightmare. Suddenly, a loud screech pierced the air. On the opposite lane, a pair of bright white headlights sped dangerously at us. Before Annie could react, there was a terrifying car crash. Glass shattered everywhere, and the world spun violently. Right then, everything became deafening and dark. Annie had passed away that night, and I thought my journey had ended with her.

When I gained my vision again, pure white hospital lights shone above me. Doctors and nurses rushed around while huge machines beeped loudly beside Annie. I could hear her parents, devastated, sobbing uncontrollably at Annie’s bedside. Although the doctors tried their hardest efforts, Annie never woke up again. As she had passed away that night, I thought my journey had ended with her. At that moment, I felt lost, as if I was in a maze. Without Annie, what was the purpose of me?

A few days later, I heard the doctors speaking gently to Annie’s grieving parents. Although, tears streamed down their faces. Despite their heartbreak, they bravely agreed to donate Annie’s organs, as it was her last wish to help the sick to have a second chance at life. Even though Annie was the youngest child in her family, her parents knew that seeing your child in pain is the biggest heartbreak ever. That was when I learnt that I would be transplanted into a twelve-year-old boy named Mark, who had severely damaged his corneas and could barely see clearly. Fear filled me as I wondered if his body would accept me as the right transplant, as many weren’t the same blood type as Annie.

The operating room was freezing cold and with bright white lights lit up as doctors carefully brought me into the cold tray. Surgeons worked precisely and quietly while machines beeped steadily in the background. At first, everything looked blurry, and I feared that the surgery had failed. However, when Mark slowly opened his eyes, light could be seen. His eyes widened with joy as he whispered, “Mum…Dad… I…I can finally see you properly.” Both his parents immediately burst into tears of joy to see their son with a smile again.

As weeks passed, I watched Mark experience things he could never enjoy before. He played basketball confidently with his friends instead of sitting alone on the bench. He read books without holding them close. He even rode a bicycle for the very first time in his life without bumping into someone. Every new experience filled him with curiosity and excitement.

One evening, Mark stood quietly by the beach, staring at the colourful sunset painted across the sky. “It… looks like a painting!” he said softly, chuckling. Those were the exact same words Annie used to say whenever she admired sunsets. At that moment, I felt that Annie was seeing the sunset once more through me. Although I still carried fears of being rejected or damaged, I also carried hope along. I hoped that Mark would continue to treasure his eyesight and live life to the fullest without any regrets. Through Annie’s final gift, I leant that even after death, kindness can continue throughout to shine brightly in someone else’s life.

I may only be a cornea, but as an organ, I became a symbol of hope, courage, and a second purpose of life to another.

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)