Biting off more then he could chew, Joseph slowly choked. No one around the table had noticed his cheeks turning blue then purple. No one seemed to care. Each person seated took bigger and bigger mouthfuls as more and more food appeared on the table top. Each gulp was a bigger mouthful, each spoon and fork over spilling gently, as food cascaded back onto the plate. Each set of eyes were focused on the food piling into their mouth and no one had noticed Joseph passing out upon his seat, his head lolling back.
Death took his hand and clasped it tightly. He took Joseph away, away from his warm body, away from his family and away from his friends. From looking down upon his feasting family he felt only the cold air of consideration. Death had taken him.
The first anyone had any inclination of a passing in their midst was when Timothy, big gruff and father of this pride, reached out for the sauce and noticed with a startled cry that his middle born had died.
Things moved fast as the chairs scrapped back and numbers were called. As his mother’s eyes began to leak the only comfort that poor Joseph could give was a small whisper in her ear, and it went something like this…
“Dearest mother, do not cry, hold back your tears for I am by your side this very night, for a moment, holding tight a kiss upon your brow before I shall move on forever more”.