"Please, you don't have to do this," I begged.

"I'm afraid that I do." She took a step toward me, sadness crawling in the depths of her eyes. "I'm really sorry about this."

Her hands met my shoulders, and she pushed.

My feet were on air for less then a second before a realized that I had been shoved off the cliff.

Suddenly, my hair swept up to my ears, and whilst falling I started to scream.

The ground was coming so fast, too fast... The blobs of green became trees, and they got clearer and clearer...

But right below me was blue. Blue, that turned into water the second I hit it.

Stars came to my eyes. The fall was long enough that the water was like cement.

My mouth opened, trying to breath, but water flooded into it.

The stars grew more frequent. I was dying.

"Help..." I gurgled, but I was underwater. Nobody would hear me.

The stars blackened. No more life for me.

“Please, you don’t have to do this,” she says.

“I know that, baby.” She doesn’t believe me. That is the frown of a daughter who has gone 15 rounds with her stubborn old man many times before. This time, though, is different. For some reason, I do not feel motivated to convince her of the folly of her assumptions.

“You think this is about me doing something I couldn’t do for your mom, and I don’t blame you. But it’s not. It’s just the right thing to do.”

As I motion to the next room, the IV tugs at my wrist. I wince a little but try to smile away the discomfort. She lightly places her hand on top of mine.

“It was just an accident. It wasn’t your fault. You don’t…”

Her squeeze on my hand strengthens a little bit more with every word.

“It’s just a kidney. I have two, and someone I know needs one. It’s polite to share.”

She laughs at the line. How many times did I tell her it’s polite to share as I was reaching into her sleeve of Oreos or can of Pringles without her permission?

I know the sight of a parent lying in a creepy, off-white bed, how it fills you with more selfishness than you normally allow. When it’s a stroke or cancer, you are resigned to the fact that your father cannot simply pull out his wires and walk away from the situation, but when it’s purely voluntary, how else can I expect her to feel?

I know how this looks, me giving something so important to a complete stranger lying in the next room who I came to know only because of a broken headlight and a torn fender for which I am responsible. To my daughter, it just looks like guilt making me stupid. Right now, I am more comfortable with her disapproval motivated by unconditional love than I am of the effort to explain to her the truth.

The doctor said I was a match. I just said yes, I’ll do it. I wasn't thinking about me or my daughter or the memory of her mom. I didn’t even think about it. It just came out. Between God and me, if I could take it back, I would.

But you don’t do that. You follow through on a promise, and you act like you knew what you were doing all along. Otherwise, the whole damn system breaks down, and you leave your children a world in which they can never believe in even the kindness much less the generosity of strangers.

“So, what’s your damsel in distress’s name?” my daughter asks.

“Grace,” I say.

There’s that frown again.

"Please, you don't have to do this!" wailed Blue. The pain and love in her voice was unbearable, but I had to do this. " I'm so sorry Blue."came my pitiful answer. Taking a step forward, it felt like I had all the time in the world. One breath in, one breath out. That's pretty much all I did, accompanied by my numb steps. Then without warning, I was angry. So angry I could knock down the World Trade Center. Then I took off. Running. Sprinting all my horrible feelings swirling inside me out. Then, I did it. "Noooooooooooo!!!" Screamed Blue as I charged into the dark forest, into the sun.

PLEASE! You don't have to do this. The only reason your life is crumbling is because you're focused on making other people happy. Please! Stop worrying about if what you do, what you say, or how you complete a 'mission' will satisfy someone else. So what he's your father. If you're going to spend you're life making sure that he's happy and meeting his expectations he should do the same and he's not. The fact that your source of happiness comes from your girlfriend or your little sister will have you forever sad and suicidal. Can you step down? Put the bottle down. You know you're allergic to that. *looks into her eyes* your source of happiness is inside you. You have to make you happy because everyone and everything is temporary! You are the key.

"Please you don't have to do this mom" I yelled. "It's not my fault that I had to take your phone away." I stormed upstairs to my bedroom and flopped on my bed. Why? I thought looking up at the ceiling. Why does this always have to happen to me? Consequences is what mom said. I don't agree that I should get that type of consequence. A couple minutes later I was fast asleep. The next thing I know mom is right in my face "Wake up"she said its time for dinner. "Ok" I mumbled as I got out of bed.I went down to the table and ate moms mashed potatoes gravy. After I was done mom said for me to get brushed up "ok" I said and went upstairs. The next day as I was walking down the stairs I saw my dad sitting at the table reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. "Hello" he said cheerfully "hi" I said looking down at my toes. "Where is mom?" "At work" he said "oh" I responded still looking down at my toes. That night mom gave me back my phone and told me that I knew better.

Please, you don't have to do this.

What a cowardly move you will make.

I lived on your promise, that loving you, would never be a mistake.

You don't have to be weak, I know it's not you, What happened to your courage and strength?

You don't have to do this, When you know if you go, Your heart will wish that you stayed.

But.....my heart will say it's too late....

Don't do this, don't make that mistake.