On Eli Valdez

The loss of a great man. The story of those left behind.

So some of you might know I’m married to a saint.

And some of you might not know I’m married to a saint.

To end the suspense: I’m married to a saint.

Her name is Catherine Pearlman, and seven years she came home and asked, “How weird would it be if I donate a kidney to a stranger.”

Um, weird.

But not weird.

See, when one winds up rolling with a social worker, he gets a partner with a big heart; with compassion; with empathy; with a ceaseless need to give back. And, earlier that day, Catherine had been in a Starbucks when she saw this flyer …

In case it’s too blurry, a woman named Monica Valdez was seeking a kidney for her husband, Eli. He was O+. Catherine is O+. So my wife reached out, had some tests and—before long—was inside UCLA’s Medical Center, having her kidney removed and placed into another person’s body.

We met Monica and Eli for the first time that day. And, oftentimes, the story sort of begins and ends there. Hi. Hi. Thank you. You’re welcome. We’re thrilled to have a new kidney. Enjoy it. OK, bye. Bye.

Lives split apart.

Not for us, though. Within a quick span, Monica and Eli became family members—and vice versa. We spent Christmas Eve at their house. They spent Chanukah at our house. We celebrated birthdays together, graduations together. Dined regularly, went to concerts, ballgames. Kidney transplant anniversaries. I am not exaggerating when I call this, in a sense, the greatest of love stories. A kidney brought two families together, and those two families merged into one unit. Catherine and I came to love Monica and Eli as we do our own siblings. Truly, deeply.

A week and a half ago, Eli died suddenly. He was 52.

We are devastated. More than devastated. Crushed. Destroyed. Empty. Eli wasn’t just a dude who received a kidney. He was as giving and compassionate as you’ll find. I want to repeat that, because it sounds cliches but is entirely true: Eli Valdez was as giving and compassionate as you’ll find. All he did was give. Gifts, compliments, kindness. I’ve never known anyone like him.

Or, put different: My son Emmett once complimented Eli’s watch.

“Have it, bro,” Eli said.

“Eli,” Emmett replied, “I can’t take your watch.”

“But you’ll use it more than I do.”

He didn’t take the watch—but Eli wanted him to.

I digress.

Monica (equally wonderful) is suddenly on her own, and what was a beautiful life journey has gone horribly dark. Hence, Catherine and I have started a GoFundMe to help her stay afloat in the aftermath. She and her husband were of modest means. They were the most amazing kind of generous: Eternally giving without thinking of themselves.

If you’d like to aid in a worthy cause, it’d be appreciated.

If nothing else, please pray for Monica’s strength and well-being.

Thank you.

— Jeff Pearlman