It was Tom’s decision to die. And, paradoxically, it was Tom’s decision to preserve the lives of others.

Tom Borrelli, my eldest son, died a year ago today at the age of 51 from complications suffered 12 days earlier in a bizarre accident at All-High Stadium in Buffalo. A sportswriter for The Buffalo News, Tom was at the stadium to cover a high school football game.

As he mounted the steep metal ladder that provided access to the press box, he appeared to have struck his head on the substructure of the roof, causing him to fall down the metal stairway. Tom was left paralyzed from the neck down and was on a ventilator after the accident.

Later, the New York State Department of Labor cited the Buffalo Public School System, which operated the stadium, for five serious safety violations in connection with access to the press box located on the stadium roof.

Sadly, Tom’s death occurred just three months and five days after his mother passed away following a long struggle with lung-heart disease. Yes, my wife, Mary, was a smoker. She eventually conquered the habit, but not soon enough.

Tom made his decision to die after doctors told him that if he recovered from his spinal injuries, he would be a quadriplegic and dependent on a ventilator for the rest of his life. There was only a 2 percent chance that he would regain the use of any of his limbs, the doctors, including spinal specialists, advised.

We — Tom’s wife, Karen; my youngest son, George, a physician in Chicago; and I — pleaded with Tom to give it more time. But he was adamant, insisting he did not want to nor could he endure life as a quadriplegic.

For many years, Tom had a weight problem. But he resolved to correct it. In his final years, he shed nearly 100 pounds and became a physical fitness buff, who exercised in a health club and walked or jogged on a daily basis, irrespective of the weather.

Tom was fully conscious and aware of his predicament in his hospital bed. He was able to communicate his feelings to family, friends and medical personnel in a coherent manner and refused to reconsider his decision.

To be certain that he was fully cognizant of the seriousness of the decision he had made, Tom was examined by a medical team that included a psychiatrist and social worker. They found he was fully aware of his condition and the consequences of his request to be removed from the ventilator.

But he had one more request. He insisted that the healthy organs in his body be harvested and used to save the lives of others.

Tom was not thinking of a legacy. He already had distinguished himself in his chosen profession of journalism. Tom was a skilled writer and was widely regarded as a sports journalist, a craft he practiced for more than a quarter century.

His specialty was covering lacrosse on the professional, college and high school levels. He was the beat reporter for the Buffalo Bandits of the National Lacrosse League. His work was so outstanding that the league made him the first and only journalist ever inducted into the league’s Hall of Fame.

Yes, Tom chose death when he was faced with the prospect of living as a quadriplegic. But he also chose life for many others who became the recipients of his organs.

That, in my mind, is a legacy that transcends his outstanding career as a journalist and the honors he won as a writer.