Exhausted, he wants to cry out for rest, peace and dignity.

He just wants someone…anyone…to pause for a moment and talk to him.

The nurses, orderlies, interns, residents are all so busy.

Having a respirator down his throat, he is unable to communicate his thoughts, his feelings, or his needs.

And his hand feels too heavy to pick up a pen or a pencil, should anyone think to offer him such an opportunity to express himself on paper.

Come to think of it…he realizes he is unable to move.

But he is alive…intellectually.

He just wants someone to stop…to really look in his eyes…and to see.

He is not afraid to die…but he is afraid to live—at least afraid to live like this.

If only someone would sit with him.

If only someone would hold his hand…if only for a minute!

Will you be that someone?

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
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TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James