Our community members are treated to special offers, promotions and adverts from us and our partners. You can check out at any time. More info

When the Albert Clock in Barnstaple's town square lit up bright pink for the first time, it wasn't just a splash of colour brightening the Devon dusk. It was a glowing tribute to a young man whose legacy has given nine people a second chance at life - and a mother determined to turn tragedy into action.

Lisa Wilson knows all too well how quickly life can change. In 2015, her 22-year-old son Tom was fatally struck on the head during a hockey match. Fit, active and in the prime of his life, Tom's death was sudden and shattering. But in the hours that followed, Lisa and her family were given a sliver of clarity amid their grief - Tom had registered as an organ donor.

"At the age of 18, he had signed up as a fresher at university," Lisa explains. "When we found out he'd signed the register, it made our job very easy just to say yes to organ donation." That decision - Tom's and then theirs - saved nine lives. And now, nearly a decade on, Lisa is working tirelessly to raise awareness of the life-saving impact of organ donation.

As an ambassador for organ donation, Lisa approached Barnstaple Town Council with the simple suggestion of turning the town's most iconic landmark pink to mark NHS Organ Donation Week. The council responded instantly. "Within minutes they said yes," she says. "It's fantastic it's pink - but it's not fantastic if people don't know why."

Because for Lisa, it's not about symbolism alone. It's about prompting action. "There are 8,000 people out there waiting for a transplant," she says. "I want people to see that pink clock and think: 'Have I registered my decision? Have I had that all-important conversation?'"

Lisa's own family hadn't spoken openly about organ donation before Tom's death. "Maybe the only conversation we'd had was one night around the dinner table," she recalls. "My husband Graham said, 'If anything happens to me, give my body to medical science or my organs to someone who needs them.' And Tom - being Tom - joked, 'What, your liver, Dad?'" She smiles at the memory. "We were a sociable, sporty lot."

But in the trauma of those days in intensive care, the lack of a proper conversation became stark. "I just wanted to wake him up," she says. "He looked like he was just asleep. I wanted to say, 'I'm so proud of your decision.'"

She urges others not to leave it to chance. "The law's changed, yes - we're all considered donors unless we opt out. But people don't realise: even if you're on the register, your loved ones can still say no if they don't know your wishes. That's why the conversation is just as important as the decision."

The power of that decision comes to life when Lisa talks about the people Tom helped. Two of them she's met - and their stories are etched into her heart.

There's Fatima, who was just two and a half when she received part of Tom's liver. Today, she's 12, thriving at secondary school, her future wide open. Then there's Gordon, who received Tom's heart at 60. A decade on, he's now 70 - and not only alive, but active. He's even competed at the World Transplant Games, representing Britain in table tennis.

"I was so thrilled to be asked to lead out the British team at the opening ceremony," she says. "Gordon, with Tom's heart, was there playing table tennis. It's incredible."

But alongside those moments of joy are deep shadows. Just two months after losing Tom, Lisa also lost her husband Graham. "My daughter Pippa and I were just at a loss," she says. "We wrote to Tom's recipients, hoping they were doing well. We told them they'd received the best Christmas present of all - and it was free." Two wrote back. Two lives transformed.

Lisa is now using her voice and experience to amplify the message across the South West. After years in London, she's returned to her birthplace of Barnstaple and is campaigning with renewed passion. "I was a London ambassador," she says, "but now I'm working from Bristol to Land's End. I want to meet more people who are waiting for transplants, who've had transplants, who just want to say thank you."

And the community is responding. "My phone's been red hot," Lisa says. "People are messaging to say they've seen the clock, they're telling me their transplant stories. Some are saying, 'I've just registered,' or, 'I've had that conversation.' That's what it's all about."

She's also been promoting the work of the Devon and Cornwall Transplant Sports Team and connecting with other campaigners, including the parents of Keira, the young girl whose heart saved a boy named Max - a story that helped spark "Max and Keira's Law", which shifted the UK to an opt-out donation system.

Still, Lisa believes there's more work to do. "People think, 'It won't happen to me.' But Tom went to hockey training and never came home. Accidents happen. And from tragedy, good can come. Nine lives were saved. You're going to be cremated or buried - if you can help someone else, why wouldn't you?"

She's also passionate about live donation. "You can donate a kidney or part of your liver while you're still alive," she says. "It's free - and it's the gift of life."

Now, Lisa hopes that the pink glow of the Albert Clock will inspire other venues - and other people - to take action. "Maybe businesses like the Brends or Rob Braddick in Westward Ho! will light up their buildings next year," she muses. "It only takes two minutes to register online, or one conversation to change everything."

For those who want to get involved, she encourages reaching out. "There's a website - the Tom Wilson Memorial Fund - and you can find me on Facebook. If you want help writing to a donor family, I can help with that too. Those letters are hard to write, but they mean the world."

As for the pink clock, Barnstaple Town Council couldn't be prouder. Esther Gittoes from the council, who helped make the lighting happen, sees it as a powerful way to get people talking. "It brings home what a difference organ donation makes," she says. "We're committed to supporting awareness in any way we can."

For Lisa, it's all part of honouring Tom's memory. "He made that decision at 18," she says. "And I'll never regret saying yes. He gave the most precious gift of all - the gift of life."