I really think that fall’s colors were more brilliant this year, the reds and yellows much happier against the deep blue skies. Maybe they seemed that way to me because the circumstances before autumn’s splendor were so dire.

In this season of Thanksgiving, this incredible time, my family is more grateful than ever before. My husband Paul received the greatest gift of all, the gift of a new life.

After waiting almost two years for a liver transplant — after several calls in May and June, and the two times that Paul was prepped for surgery, only to be sent home without a new liver — finally on an ordinary night in late August, the call came. We had returned home after closing up the theatre. I was washing dishes and it was late, near midnight, when Paul leaned over the stair railing to say they called.

Who?

Guess, he said.

I was not even thinking of the MGH liver transplant department because they hadn’t called in over two months. The reality was that Paul had started to consider he might not get the transplant in time. My task, through these months and years, was to never permit hope to leave our house.

So this call on this night was the call we were waiting for but no longer really expected. And it came in the middle of a clear summer night. But we had to get to Boston by 4 a.m.

We called a friend who had offered to fly us if he were still here on-Island (summer was almost over). Then as the Island slept, Paul and I and our much-loved daughter Jenik made it to the airport at 2:15 a.m. to meet our pilot-angel. Off we flew, under a new moon, which is a black moon, a no-moon. And so we flew, the only plane among the stars, swiftly, suspended amidst the stars. And then there we were again, at the hospital and the familiar routine.

With hope, but I admit with a dash of doubt for we had been here before, Paul was prepped for surgery. This time he was whisked away. The operation took eight hours on August 26. The surgeons were first-class, the best in the world. We were told this new liver was healthy; that the donor was older and close to Paul’s age. We were not told who the donor was. We do know that the donor lost his or her life that night in order to give Paul his life. We know that the donor’s family was bereft as our family rejoiced. We know that we were given grace and faith when we needed them most and all would be well. We were in the hands of our Higher Power. And the first thing I noticed, right away, when Paul made it through the surgery and opened his eyes in the ICU later that night, was this: the whites of his eyes were white again. His new liver was working.

Our journey — the wait, the transplant and the good news at long last — became a shared experience. Some of the stories and the miracles along the way were reported and celebrated. Islanders we know and those we never met were rooting for Paul and asking how he was doing. So much wondering and praying. I am here to tell you, yes, he finally received his liver transplant, and he is great. He is healthy, he is alive, and we are grateful for every single minute. Thank you!

How can we thank everyone? The dear friends and family who stayed by our side every minute, who provided us with shelter and food and laughter and courage; the medical workers who care for Paul — his nurses, doctors, surgeons, oncologists, whole teams of miracle workers — both on-Island and off; the priests and ministers and rabbis and entire congregations who prayed for him; our co-workers; Paul’s elderly mother who maybe prayed harder than anyone for her only son; our sweet granddaughters who give us much joy; the neighbors who cared for our pets and pulled weeds in the yard. So many traveled this road with us. Overwhelming, incredible and humbling.

Another Thanksgiving and our world continues to change. Now the leaves are bright brown, the skies are pure silver gray. These things happen when they do, and in a blink of an eye. A life is saved. Another is gone. Our hearts overflow with gratitude.

Ours is a happy ending, a so-far/so-good success story shared by an entire community. Paul is singing again — a miracle. We just celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary. Another miracle.

Thank you, each and every one of you, in heaven and on earth.

MJ Bruder-Munafo is the artistic and executive director of the Vineyard Playhouse.