To Remember Me
By Robert Test
At a certain moment a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my life has stopped. When that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine. And don't call this my "deathbed", call it my "bed of life" and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives.
Give my sight to a man who has never seen a sunrise or love in the eyes of a woman and to a woman who has never seen her baby's face.
Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but days of pain.
Give my blood to a teen-ager who has been pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play.
Give my kidneys to two people who depend on a machine to exist from day to day.
Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body and find a way to make a crippled child walk.
Explore every corner of my brain. Take my cells and let them grow so that someday a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against the windows.
Burn what is left of me and scatter the ashes to the winds to help the flowers grow.
If you must bury something let it be my faults, my weaknesses, and all my prejudices against my fellow man.
Give my sins to the devil. Give my soul to God. If you wish to remember me do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you. If you do all I have asked, I will live forever.
cheers,
R (who must return to the hellish ordeal known as "packing" *sigh*)