Before Martha died, she ordered three wool dragons from King Cole knitting company.
It was one of the last things she did.
The other activities she completed with her last moments of life sadly only lead her to her death and amounted to her standing on a corner waiting for a bus, which arrived much later than scheduled, due to the traffic she caused by winding up beneath a trolley smeared into Martha flavored jam on the ice-covered road.
It is the one thing all living beings can expect to occur at some point in their lives. It never occurs at the right time and someone is bound to be inconvenienced by it.
So Martha died. She did not feel the trolley smashing her body into bits and pieces and was not sad to end up where she went, but those that she left behind felt pain and sadness and disappointment at the unfairness of it all.
Especially her boy Daniel.
The living rarely understand the necessity of death and how redundant eternity would be if it were not offered at all.
But Daniel does not care about redundancies. He just wants his mommy back.
The day after the funeral the post arrived, as it is want to do. Daniel opens the box addressed to his mother and finds the three hand-knitted dragons.
His decides immediately to throw them out. They are just stuffies and he was going to be seven soon and seven-year-olds who lose their mother don’t need toys anymore, they just need to get over it and start growing up.
Daniel walks over to the bin, not at all about to cry, and flips the lid up, but before he can toss them away the bright Irish green dragoon, requests, “Wait a mo.”