day will come when my body will be upon a white sheet neatly tucked
under four corners of a mattress located in a hospital; busily occupied with
the living and the dying. At a certain point a doctor will determine that
my brain has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my
life has stopped.
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.
my sight to the man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face
or love in the eyes of a woman.
my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but
endless days of pain.
my blood to the teenager who was pulled from the wreckage of
his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play.
my kidneys to the one who depends on a machine to exist from
week to week
my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body and
find a way to make a crippled child walk.
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.
you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weakness, and all
prejudice against my fellow man.
my sins to the devil.
my soul to God.
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.
by Robert N. Test
and what my son, James Wier would say if he could
More Pages about James Wier
Memorials to Other Friends
Helpful Resources on Grief
Our Guest Book
PROJECT....Fighting Against the Underride Tragedy