The story goes like this:
A young woman had been diagnosed with a terminal illness; doctors says she had three months to live. As she was getting her things “in order,” she contacted her priest and asked him to come to her house to discuss her final wishes.
She told him which songs she wanted sung at the funeral service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.
Everything was in order and the priest was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.
“There’s one more thing,” she said excitedly.
“What’s that?” came the priest’s reply.
“This is very important,” the young woman continued. “I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.”
The priest stood looking at her, not knowing quite what to say.
“That surprises you, doesn’t it?” the woman asked.
“Well, to be honest, I’m puzzled by the request,” said the priest.
The young woman explained.“ In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over 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!
“So, I just want people to see me there in that 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.‘”
After hearing this story, every time I reach down for my fork, I remember that the best is yet to come.