If the little lady I had the opportunity of working with, or any of the
other cadavers in the lab, had the chance to express themselves, I imagine
this is what they would say:

Oh dear child, I am so pleased to be here with you and I know our time
together is nearly through.  However, I have a favor to ask of you.  There
is some unfinished business I need you to take care of for me.

When you see my loved ones, my husband, my father, my children I bore in
the very womb you have learned from, tell them this for me.  There is no
greater joy in life-or in death-than giving.  Tell them how marvelous it
is to feel your hands, your probe, searching every network of my being.
Just as I recall planting tiny seeds in the springtime black, rich,
topsoil, working my fingers through the dirt, watering and watching and
waiting to see the flowers grow and blossom-I, too, see you.  Those
professors of yours are giving you plenty of tools, yes.  But I sense you
using them.  Noting every vessel, every nerve, every tendon.  Looking at
the direction of my muscle fibers, my unique characteristics and my battle
scars, seeing how different we all are, yet still all the same.  I watch
you ask questions and look up answers and work together far after the sun
has set.  I know you see my beauty.  

And when you truly appreciate this rare privilege granted you, when you
really understand the magnitude of this gift I freely give, and learn not
only how the body works, but more importantly, the soul-Yes, I see your
beauty too.

So tell my beloved no need to say goodbye, merely a farewell will do.  For
we'll all meet again soon and everything will make perfect sense.  Yes,
from dust unto dust I shall return-But , oh, what a glorious dust I shall
be!  Amen.