in the realm of the fictionman

Tears and Keep Your Fork

Yesterday was the memorial service for Grandma at her church. It was a nice observance. It wasn't a funeral, really. It was a goodbye.

My mom and dad both spoke. Dad had put together what he wanted to say. Typed it out. He learned too late he should have printed it larger. He could barely read it once he was up there. Dad tends to be pretty reserved--almost stoic at times. It's a family trait that neither started nor stopped with him.

As it was he barely got through it, but he did. It was one of the more emotionally charged things I've seen, and it made it all the more poignant.

Afterwards, we all gathered, and he was still crying. I'd never seen him cry before. He stood and wiped at his eyes without apologizing while people were talking around and with him. He looked as though he had realized he was allowed to cry, that it was acceptable, which of course it was. I'm glad I got to see that side of him. He handled it with dignity. I don't know if I would have been able to do that.

The other bit that's going to stick with me was a story entitled, "Keep you fork."

The story is about an old woman planning her end. She's going over what she wants, and explains to the pastor that she wanted to be buried with a fork in her hand.

Huh?

So she explained that every Sunday the congregation would gather for food after church. And every Sunday, towards the end, before dessert came out, someone would lean over and whisper, "keep your fork." And the dessert was what she always enjoyed best. It was inevitably something rich and yummy.

And that was the point. It's not the end. There's more. There's always more, and it just gets better. The best, in fact, is yet to come.

Keep your fork.

Posted by fictionman at April 2, 2005 06:30 AM | TrackBack (1)