A mother's journey after her son's organ donation saved 3 lives

A truck approaches Moon Young-in as he shops at Bucheon Jeil Market in Bucheon, Gyeonggi Province, on Nov. 13, 2025. Korea Times ilustration by Song Jung-guen

First came a thunderous crash. Then someone frantically calling emergency services.

“It’s terrible. People are lying everywhere. You need to come now!”

Choi Seo-young, 56, was inside a produce shop buying groceries for her husband’s birthday when she heard the sound. A terrible thought flashed through her mind — her son was standing outside the store.

She rushed out. A scene of devastation unfolded before her eyes. Stalls had been smashed apart. Shards of glass lay scattered across the street. People were sprawled on the ground, some with limbs twisted at grotesque angles, bleeding and moaning in pain.

Her 23-year-old son was nowhere to be seen.

“Young-in, where are you?”

Frantically calling his name, Choi rushed through the marketplace. She soon found her son lying outside a butcher shop two doors down from where he had been standing. His face was covered in blood; as were the cabbages and scallions scattered around him. One hand was still gripping the grocery bag he had offered to carry, saying it was too heavy for his mother. Tears immediately swelled upon seeing the sight.

“No, don’t get up. Stay down. Just stay still.”

She held on to her son as he groaned and instinctively tried to rise. The grip only loosened when paramedics rushed over and shouted for her to let go, before lifting him onto a stretcher.

It was all surreal — her son lying on the cold pavement, and frantic movement swirling around them. For a moment, it seemed as though time had stopped around the mother and son alone.

Moon Young-in lies in a bed in the neurosurgical intensive care unit at Ewha Womans University Seoul Hospital in Gangseo District, western Seoul, on Nov. 13, 2025. Korea Times illustration by Song Jung-guen

A patient from the headlines

Cho Dong-young, a 43-year-old neurosurgeon at Ewha Womans University Seoul Hospital, was just scrolling through his phone after finishing rounds in the intensive care unit when he suddenly came across a breaking news story. A truck driver had pressed the wrong pedal and driven his 1-ton truck some 150 meters through a marketplace in Bucheon, killing and injuring more than 20 people. An urgent call came an hour later from the emergency department, saying that a patient from Bucheon had just arrived and that Cho was needed in the emergency room.

Cho took a quick look at the patient. The young man in his 20s was barely conscious but still responded to external stimuli. Cho initially believed recovery would be possible if the bleeding was brought under control. But a few hours later, a CT scan showed blood filling the space inside the skull, and a brain swelling due to mounting pressure to a point it reached the critical point. Then the pupils became fixed, and the patient slipped into a coma.

The operating room lights came on. When Cho and other surgeons removed part of the patient's skull and opened the membrane surrounding the brain, they saw damaged brain tissue spilling out — the worst case scenario. Three hours into the surgery, Cho knew it was time to tell the family.

Still dressed in his surgical gown, he stepped out to the corridor where the patient's entire family was waiting. It took some effort for him to open his mouth and deliver the news.

“We have done our best, but his chances of survival are bleak. I think it is best that you prepare for the worst.”

His voice rang heavily through the silent hallway.

Choi Seo-young, the mother of Moon Young-in, holds a photo album containing pictures of her son at her daughter’s home in Bucheon, Gyeonggi Province, on May 4. Korea Times photo by Park Si-mon

The son who loved the market

To Choi and her husband, their son Young-in has always been a little different and special from others. They realized this when they saw Young-in using only one hand to crawl. A thorough examination at a university hospital found that he had a congenital intellectual disability, caused by damage to the brain’s small blood vessels.

At first, this worried the couple. What if their son develops severe impulsive behaviors? Will he be able to lead a normal life?

But soon, such fears proved to be unnecessary. Young-in grew up to be gentle and bright, developing a considerate character faster than kids his age. He was beloved by everyone at the local community welfare center he attended.

“He was kind and always greeted people so brightly. The university students who came to the center for field training would all say that Young-in made things much easier for them,” said Choi Eun-kyung, a staff member at the center.

Young-in loved interacting with people so much that he even took barista classes. But when he occasionally helped run a one-day cafe, he was more interested in greeting customers, taking orders and serving them than in actually brewing the coffee he had learned to make in class.

That was probably why Young-in loved visiting the traditional market so much, said Choi. The place was always bustling with people. From a young age, Choi took his son to the market at least three times a week. They would playfully compete to take the grocery-laden bags from each other and do the heavy lifting, then stop at the family’s favorite restaurant after shopping. The routine became part of their everyday life.

“After he graduated from high school, he did not have many reasons to go outside. Whenever I asked whether he wanted to go to the park or the market, he always chose the market,” Choi said, a smile spreading across her face.

Neurosurgeon Cho Dong-young explains Moon Young-in’s medical chart at Ewha Womans University Seoul Hospital in Gangseo District, western Seoul, on May 19. Couresty of Ehwa Womans University Seoul Hospital

A family at a crossroads

The family clung to the faint hope that Young-in’s condition would somehow get better. Two days later, however, his brain had deteriorated further. Doctors told them that the worst moment they had feared had arrived and that his chances of recovery were now extremely slim. It was then that Cho cautiously raised the possibility of organ donation.

“It is the noblest way to leave this world, by saving the lives of others,” Cho said.

Choi was the first to be persuaded. If their son truly was not coming back, she thought, there would at least be some comfort in knowing that he had saved other people.

“It is what Young-in would have done,” she said, words which finally convinced her reluctant husband. There was also a sense of comfort in believing that a part of Young-in would continue to live on in people somewhere in the world through the organs he had donated.

Their daughter, who initially opposed the suggestion because she could not bear the thought of his body being cut open, eventually agreed as well after receiving a thorough explanation of organ donation.

They were then briefed on the unfamiliar and complicated procedures ahead, including two rounds of brain-death testing, an EEG and a formal review by the brain-death determination committee.

Thankfully, Kim Young-ha, their coordinator from the Korea Organ Donation Agency (KODA), gently guided the family through each step while making sure their feelings came first. Kim also kept a close watch through the night, checking that Young-in was receiving sufficient nutrition and oxygen and that his blood pressure remained stable, so the family’s difficult decision would not be in vain.

Kim assured the family that she will stay beside their son every night and pray for him, the words which offered a small measure of comfort.

Moon Young-in is taken to an operating room for organ donation surgery at Ewha Womans University Seoul Hospital. Korea Times illustration by Song Jung-guen

At last, the day had come. An announcement repeated throughout the hospital that morning made sure everyone knew that an honor walk would be held for the organ donor later that day.

At 3 p.m., hospital staff, including the hospital director and medical teams from the recipient hospitals, gathered in the hallway to pay tribute to Young-in as he was slowly wheeled toward the operating room. Just before he was taken inside, Cho took Choi’s hands in his.

“I’m sorry I could not save your son,” he said, his eyes reddened with tears.

That day, Young-in donated his heart, lungs and liver, saving the lives of three people. Choi said that on the day of his funeral, she dreamed of a white dove soaring into the sky.

Choi Eun-jung, a counselor with the Korea Organ Donation Agency, speaks in an interview with Hankook Ilbo at a cafe in Seodaemun District, western Seoul, on May 18. Korea Times poto by Heo Yoo-jung

Seeing Young-in in the lives of others

A month later, a psychological and administrative counselor from KODA came to visit the family. Choi Eun-jung, who had been in contact with the family, said she wanted to come personally and meet them.

At the spot Young-in's mother expressed her intent to donate the 5.4 million won (around $3500) provided for funeral and medical expenses to the welfare center her son had attended. The donation was used to support programs and activities at the welfare center at the family's request.

On New Year's Eve, the family received a letter from one of the recipients. The family had not expected it, having been told that transplant operations are not always successful.

Hurriedly gathered together, they began to read the letter. They started to tear up almost immediately when its opening lines revealed that the writer was someone who had been given a second chance at life by their son.

“I am writing to express my deepest gratitude. Your loved one’s legacy continues to live on within me,” the letter read. The recipient went on to pledge to live responsibly and honorably in memory of their son.

Choi said she realized that time still stopped whenever Young-in came to mind. Since her son’s death, she has stopped going to the market. She still cannot bring herself to eat the pizza and fried chicken he loved so much and they often shared. Whenever she happens to hear one of his favorite songs, tears begin to flow.

Still, what enables her to make it through another day is the reminder that she remains connected to her son through the new lives he saved before passing away.

She likes to imagine that her son has been reborn through them. That is why she wishes them happiness, hoping they will go to university, fall in love, marry and travel.

“I hope they live happily, doing what they want and achieving everything they desire.”

Her words, though ostensibly directed at people she has never met, were also meant for the son who never had the chance to do those things himself.

This article from the Hankook Ilbo, the sister publication of The Korea Times, is translated by a generative AI system and edited by The Korea Times.