It was a difficult subject to bring before his aged mother, but Morris felt that he must. "Mom, you are no longer a spring chicken and you do need to think ahead of what will happen in the future. Why don't we make arrangements about when..... you know... when.... God Forbid ... you pass on?"

The mother didn't say anything, just sat there staring ahead.

"I mean, Momma, like.... how do you want to finally go? To be buried? Cremated?"

There was yet another long pause. Then the mother looked up and said, "Son, why don t you simply surprise me?"