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The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress located in a medclinic or ship's medbay busily occupied with the living and dying. At a certain moment, a healer 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. 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 being whose own heart has caused nothing but endless days of pain. Give my blood to the young speeder jockey who was pulled from the wreckage of his speeder, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play. Give my kidneys to one who depends on a machine to exist 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 someday a speechless boy will tell his family he loves them and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain on her window. If you must bury something else, let it be my faults and weaknesses. Give my soul to the Force. 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 ask, I will live forever.

--Firmus Apollo Piett

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