The Fork And My Own Personal ReMix on it

For those of you who don't know "The Fork" is one of my personal favorite short stories, I never get tired of reading it. And so with a look of personal introspection I wrote my own personal ReMix of it, it doesn't necessarily follow the same line as the original, but then it wasn't supposed to.

The Fork

There was a woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and was given 3 months to live.  As she began getting her things "in order", she called her pastor and asked for him to come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.

She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she wanted read, and what dress she wanted to be buried in.  She also requested to be buried with her favorite Bible in her left hand.

Everything was in order and as the pastor was preparing to leave, the woman suddenly remembered one final request that was very important to her.

"Please Pastor, just one more thing", she said excitedly.

"Sure, What is it" came the pastor's reply.

"This is very important to me," the woman continued....."I want to be buried holding a fork in my right hand."

The pastor gazed at the woman, with a loss for words.

"That surprises you, doesn't it ?" the woman asked.

The pastor replied "Well to be quite honest, I'm puzzled by the request".

The woman explained.  "You see, Pastor, in all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I remember that when the dishes were being cleared after the main course, someone would inevitably lean over to me and say, 'Keep your Fork'...  it was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming, like velvety chocolate cake or deep dish apple pie.  Something wonderful, and with substance to end the great meal".

The pastor listened intently and a smile came upon his face.

The woman continued, "So, I just want people to see me there in the casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder....'What's with the fork?'...  then I want you to tell them:  "Keep your Fork......the best is yet to come".

The pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman goodbye.

He knew that this would be one of the last times that he would see her before her death.  But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of Heaven than he did.  She KNEW and trusted that the best was yet to come.

At the funeral, everyone who walked by the woman's casket saw her wearing a beautiful dress with her favorite Bible held in her left hand and a fork held in her right hand.  Over and Over the pastor heard people ask the question, "Why is she holding a fork?"  and his smile began to get larger and brighter each time.  During his message, the pastor told the people about the conversation that he had with the woman shortly before she died.  He explained the fork and what it symbolized to her.

The Pastor told everyone how he could not stop thinking about the fork and how he hoped that they would not be able to stop thinking about it either.  That fork and the meaning of it to the woman had quite the impact on everyone and they are still sharing the story with people they meet.

And now it has been shared with you......so the next time you reach for your fork, let it remind you, oh so gently, that the best is yet to come...

The Fork (My ReMix)

There was a man who had lost all hope for his life, he’d been diagnosed with a myriad of illnesses and they were looking for more. He began trying to get his things, his life “in order”, he documented his life and began to write.

He listed the things he had done, the good and the bad. He made a list of the things he wished he had done or been able to do, “get married, have kids, finish college” and at the very top of his list right above getting married he put the one thing he had always wanted. “Find the one woman in this world that I can be myself with, the one that I don’t feel the need to hide anything from, the one that I will someday marry.”

Everything written down. The man looked down and remembered his life as he read what he had written, everything flashing through his mind like it was on a film roll. With one final desperate thought he wrote one final line to his life story, “To whoever reads this, please don’t judge me harshly or fault me for taking what many consider to be the easy way out. My life was never my own.”

Without another thought or glance at the screen he clicked the save button, and turned off the monitor on his computer.

Taking a final look around his room he noticed his cell phone as it began to ring silently.

Without looking at the Caller-ID he picked up his phone and answered the call.

Without waiting for the person who had called him to speak he started talking about his life, how it had never been easy and how no-one had ever believed that his problems were real but instead merely a cry for attention. That even after they had been diagnosed everyone still just brushed aside, choosing instead to believe that they weren’t truly as bad as he said they were.

After speaking for some time the man paused and waited for the person on the other end to say something.

“You mentioned your list of things that you haven’t done yet, if you’re going to give up why don’t you at least do those things first. Go out with as few regrets as possible, and when you gone through your entire list why don’t you look back through and see if there are more that you need to add to your list, more that you need to do before you truly give-up. And then after everything on that list has been completed, make a new list with the names of all the people that you have ever wronged and another one with the names of all the people that you might be able to help before they give-up.” The voice on the other end of the phone paused before saying one final thing. “Always remember that as long as you have the lists, you have hope that something better is coming. Something wonderful, and with a lasting effect to the end of your days.”

The man listened, tears glistening in his eyes and running down his cheeks as the phone call ended. He clicked through the screens on his phone until he got to the Caller-ID and saw that the number was blocked.

The man slowly got to his knees and prayed to his Father above as he had never done before. Pouring out his dreams and desires, his frustrations, and everything that he could think of, until all that remained were his tears, still streaming down his face.

Slowly and with leaden legs the man stood and moved to his computer, turning on his monitor he looked at the document he had written and highlighting the last line he hit delete, and began to type again.

Joshua L. Kern