Save Your Fork!
There's an old story about an elderly woman who was told by her physician that she probably wouldn't live much longer. Soon thereafter, she called in her family to discuss her funeral arrangements. They talked about how the service would be, where she would be buried, what kind of casket would be used, etc. As the conversation was winding down, the woman remarked, "There's one thing that's very important: I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."
Her children were understandably puzzled by that remark, and one of them couldn't contain his curiosity. "Mom," he said, "what are you talking about?" "I remember eating with my family when I was a young girl," the woman began, "Each of us would help clear away the dishes. Every once in a while, mom would tell us, 'Save your fork!' We children knew what that meant. It meant that mom had fixed us a pie or a cake or some sort of treat. When she said 'Save your fork!' that meant the best was yet to come. So I want to be buried with a fork in my hand, for the best is yet to come!"
Her children were understandably puzzled by that remark, and one of them couldn't contain his curiosity. "Mom," he said, "what are you talking about?" "I remember eating with my family when I was a young girl," the woman began, "Each of us would help clear away the dishes. Every once in a while, mom would tell us, 'Save your fork!' We children knew what that meant. It meant that mom had fixed us a pie or a cake or some sort of treat. When she said 'Save your fork!' that meant the best was yet to come. So I want to be buried with a fork in my hand, for the best is yet to come!"
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