Radiant Sorrows

Selfless

Give my eyes to the 25-year-old blind woman who has never experience the beauty of the world, so that she may enjoy what I once took for granted.
The sun, the rain, the smile on your lovers face when you come home.
Give my heart to the 15-year-old boy who has waited his whole life for a heart transplant.
Let him know it's a little sensitive so he needs to take care of it.
Give my lungs to the woman who was in that house fire and hasn't been able to breathe the same since.
Give her the chance to watch her youngest child graduate.
Tell her that I stopped smoking years ago so that somebody like her could get more use out of them once I'm gone.
Give my liver to the alcoholic. Yes, I said the alcoholic. Give him a second chance at life. Let him realize how valuable it is. Tell him that I understand. I understand the pain, I understand the aching in your chest and I understand the addiction to something that takes all the pain away, even if only temporary.
Give my kidney to the woman who wants nothing more than to watch her grandkids grow up.
Watch their first steps, their first day of school, and their many school dances.
Tell her to get more out of life than I ever could have.
But please, don't tell them what I had to do to give it to them
Don't tell them how you found me.
Lying there, in a puddle of my own blood, previous scars covering my wrists as well.
Don't tell them about my last phone call. The one I made to you so you could save my heart before it completely stopped.
Don't tell them about how you found this poem lying on the nightstand next to my bed, or about the notes, I left for my family.
Don't tell them about the amount of alcoholic you found in my system.
Don't tell them it was the only thing that gave me the courage to do it.
Tell them life was amazing for me.
That it was 110% worth living and that I enjoyed every minute of it.
Tell them to take what I have to give them and use it to the fullest.
Tell the woman who got my eyes to take in every wrinkle of her mother's face and every freckle of her own. Tell the boy with my heart to love harder than I ever could, or ever got the chance too.
Tell the woman with my lungs to live her life. To do the things she always wanted to do but felt she couldn't.
Tell the man with my liver to treat her well. Stop drinking every day. I've done enough damage to her myself.
Tell the women who got my kidney to chase the babies around the house, cry as you send them off on their first day of school, and chaperone on their school dances.
Tell them that life is a gift, and tell them to enjoy every second of it