The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet
neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress in a hospital busily occupied
with the living and dying. 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. Let it be called the Bed of
Life, and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives.
Give my sight to the man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or love in
the eyes of a woman.
Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but endless days of
pain.
Give my blood to the teenager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so
that he might live to see his grandchildren play.
Give my kidneys to one who depends on a machine to exist from week to week.
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, if necessary, and let them grow
so that, some day, a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a deaf
girl will hear the sound of rain against her window.
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 prejudice
against my fellow man.
Give my sins to the devil. Give my soul to God.
If, by chance, you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to
someone who needs it. If you do all I have asked, I will live forever.