To Remember Me

The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly
tucked
under four corners of a mattress located in a hospitall busily occupied
with
living and the
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
granchildren 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 chile walk.
Explore every corner of my brain. Take my cells, if necessary, 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 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.
If, by chance, 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.