Spring 1985, Issue 3

A dying girl's last wish

I remember my little sister Melinda with both great tenderness and sadness. She was a nique individual who touched the lives of everyone who knew her, and the memory of her courage and optimism will always be with me. But most of all, I will remember her for her dying request.

The first five years of Melinda's life were happy and uneventful. She was a typical child, curious adorable, inquisitive, playful. Our family and relatives adored her. But, who knows why, who can tell these things, Melinda became stricken at about age six. A little girl who had been full of life, full of spirit became the habitué of hospital beds and operating tables. But she never let us forget how much we meant to her, and she became an even greater object of affection for our family.

It seemed like a miracle when the disease went into remission, and Melinda enjoyed two fruitful, wonderful years. We were thankful for every moment we had with her.

Then, tragedy struck. Quickly and frighteningly. Melinda was back in the hospital. For the next three years she was barely to step outside of it. Yet, she was always brave and cheerful. She showed uncommon intelligence and bravery for one so young. Her struggle was both poetic and pitiful to watch.

I'll never forget that final evening when I sat by Melinda's bed. She was so frail. She was sinking fast, and this time, the doctor said, she wouldn't recover. I held her tiny hand in mine.

"Please," she whispered. "If I could have just one wish..." "What?" I asked. "Anything." My grief was almost unbearable.

"I want..." she was having trouble finding the energy to speak. She strained mightily. I could tell the effort was immense.

"I hope... that..." she trailed off.

"What? Melinda. What?" I urged her. I would promise anything to the dying little girl whose life had been so full of misery and pain, anything that might make her feel that her life had not been one of total suffering.

"I want..." she gasped. "...for the Associated Students Council at the University of California, San Diego... to give... The Koala all the money it wants. If they do that then my life will have been worthwhile..."

And then she died.

Telling this story brings back painful memories. But I tell it because I know that if people know what Melinda's dying wish was, her last request, they will honor it.

What kind of people would be so heartless as to deny the final hope of a dying child?