A woman lay on the hospital bed, her face covered with a white sheet.
A tall man knelt at the bedside, both knees on the floor. His hands gripped the edge of the sheet so hard the veins stood out across the backs of his hands, and his eyes were raw and red.
Beside him, several elderly relatives leaned on one another, weeping so hard they could barely breathe.
A little girl in pink pajamas knelt on the floor, groping blindly.
"Mommy... answer Melody... Melody can't see, I can't find you..."
Her head struck the bed frame. The skin on her forehead swelled red instantly.
The man lunged forward and swept her into his arms, burying his face against the curve of her small neck. His shoulders shook violently.
"Melody, Mommy went somewhere very far away."
His voice was shredded.
"No! I want Mommy! You promised you wouldn't leave Melody!"
The little girl flailed her hands, grabbing at nothing but air.
The whole family surrounded the bed, suffocating in grief.
The same kind of goodbye—life torn from life.
Her mother had died here, and every person in this room would have traded places with her in a heartbeat.
I was dying too, but my family was calculating what price my kidneys would fetch after I was gone.