"He just looked over at me and said, 'Hey, mom, are you an organ donor?" Gerri Osman said.

Sebastian had researched organ donation and made the decision to become an organ donor himself, he told her.

"He said, 'Is that alright?' And I said, 'Of course that's alright,'" Osman said.

It was only a short conversation, but one that would change her life forever.

On Feb. 17, Sebastian was struck by a minivan going 40 m.p.h. as he attempted to cross the street at 1300 E. 700 South during his lunch break. A UTA bus had stopped in front of the crosswalk there to pick up passengers, so the driver of the minivan couldn't see Sebastian as she passed the bus in the other lane, Osman said.

The bus driver, who could see the minivan coming up behind him, honked to warn Sebastian, Osman said. But the sound may have sound startled the teen, who walked right into its path.

The East High School sophomore - a cross country runner and nature lover who scooted around town on his longboard and lived for the weekends - suffered severe head trauma. His pelvis severed into three pieces. The paramedics who took Sebastian to Primary Children's Medical Center didn't think he'd live long enough to make it through the hospital's doors, Osman said.

In the emergency room, doctors drilled a hole in Sebastian's skull to relieve the pressure on his brain, and then put him in a deep, drug-induced coma, Osman said.

Sebastian would never again regain consciousness.

About a week after the accident, Osman was faced with a heart-wrenching choice: keep her son on life-support machines or let him die.

"I was pretty much led to believe that if I left him on life support, that he would really have no quality of life," she said. "He would be in an institution. He would be on a feeding tube. He'd be on a ventilator for the rest of his life. And I know my son and I know him well enough to know that's not the quality of life he would have wanted."

But that wasn't the only decision Osman would have to make. During their discussions with Osman, Sebastian's doctors brought up organ donation. It was then that Osman recalled her talk with Sebastian.

Osman met with a representative from Intermountain Donor Services, who provided her with the information she would need to make her decision.

"I can't even get across how wonderful the people at IDS are," she said. "There is no adjective to describe the depth of just the humility, empathy and compassion that these people have."

Her choice was clear, Osman said. Sebastian wanted to donate his organs. In his death, he would give three others the gift of life.

In the operating room, doctors removed Sebastian's liver and kidneys. A woman received his liver, and two men - one a rancher, the other a school teacher - each received one of his kidneys.

Two of the recipients later wrote Osman letters.

Within eight hours of receiving her new liver, the woman was up walking around her room, she wrote to Osman.

"She wrote in the letter how she was just so grateful that she was going to get to see her children grow up, that she was going to get to spend more time with her husband, that she was going to get to be here with the people she loved because someone took the time to say 'yes' to organ donation."

Osman said her experience instilled in her a new sense of purpose. After Sebastian's death, she began volunteering her time with IDS and speaking at high schools, nursing schools and at different functions about the importance of organ donation.

"It's not about getting them to sign up," she said. "It's just bringing awareness to the situation."

In Utah, about 270 people are waiting for an organ transplant, said Alex McDonald, director of public education and public relations for IDS. Almost half need kidneys. While about 65 percent of Utahns have registered to be organ donors - among the highest percentages in the country - McDonald said IDS still needs more people.

"We'd like to have 90 percent of the population sign up," he said.

In order for a person to be an organ donor, he explained, he or she has to die in a hospital on a ventilator. Though 6,000 people die each year in Utah, only 80 meet that criteria, he said.

"You can see where it gets narrowed down in a hurry," he said.

To expand the pool of donors, McDonald said living people can also donate one of their healthy kidneys to a person in need of one. The state of Utah and some private companies offer their employees 30 days of paid leave if they donate a kidney, he said.

Over the last three years, about 25 people have donated a kidney as part of IDS' Good Samaritan Program, "which says a lot about the giving nature of people," he said. In two cases, both a parent and one of their children donated kidneys at the same time.

Most people register as organ donors when they get their Utah driver's licenses, McDonald said, but those who haven't done so and wish to register can visit the Web site yesutah.org or call 866-YES-UTAH.

Osman, who before Sebastian's death was undecided about whether she would ever donate her organs, stresses the importance of talking about it with family members. She's thankful her son made his wishes known - and for inspiring her to go on after his death to educate the community about organ donation.

Sebastian's grave is in the Salt Lake City Cemetery, high on a hillside overlooking the city - and near the mountains, where he loved to hike, camp and commune with nature.

Osman visits it often.

"I don't believe anything is in vain. I just believe everything happens for a reason," she said. "There are a lot of answers out there and if you're aware of your surroundings and what you're doing in your life, they're there for you."

lrosetta@sltrib.com