The Story of Aunt Martina

Martina was well into her 80s when one day she called her local priest to come and talk with her. “My doctor told me today that I have a serious heart problem and have no more than 6 months to live” she told him.

“Perhaps we can get a second opinion?” he offered.
“No need, my body tells me that it’s time, I just need to know I can count on you to do some things when the time comes”.
“Of course, what would you have me do?” he replied.

“Before they close the lid on my coffin, I want you to place two things in my hands. In the left hand, my mother’s Bible that has travelled always with me, and in my right hand I want you to put this“, handing him a fork from an ancient cutlery set.
“Pardon, Martina” said the priest, “a fork? What a strange request. Can you tell me why you want to take this fork to your grave?”
“I was hoping you’d ask, Father” she replied. “You see there’s a story about this fork. Take a seat and I’ll tell you”.

When they were both comfortably seated, she continued. “When I was a child, we were very poor and didn’t have enough money for grand meals. But on special occasions my mother and her sisters would manage to pool their resources to make something special. On those days, when they cleared the plates from the meal, they would tell us “Keep your forks, kids”.
For us this had one marvellous meaning - there was a special dessert coming. Not just jelly or flan, but maybe Aunt Emma’s exquisite chocolate cake or Mother’s delicious apple and raspberry tart.
When someone told us to hold onto our forks, we knew that the best was to come.

And this is exactly what I want you to share with the others who will be there remembering good moments they shared with this old woman.
Some of them will ask you why I am holding a fork, and that’s when you will tell them my story, so that they all understand that I wanted to be prepared. Because I know that the best - the dessert of this wonderful banquet that was my life - is still to come.