Chapter 515: Overcoming One’s Limit (1)
Chapter 515: Overcoming One’s Limit (1)
Bright sunlight, fresh air, the beautiful sound of the wind, and flour floating like dust. The unusually serene baking room was where Jack spent his final moments.
“Can I make bread here again?” Lisa muttered softly.
Marco responded, struggling to hold back tears as he spoke with a whimper, “You have to make it.”
“Every time I enter this place, I think of my dad. I imagine all the things he said coming to mind more clearly. It just makes me feel sadder.”
Marco caught his breath, hopeful she would overcome her sorrow. After all, if she had something to do, she wouldn’t turn away from it. He knew well what Jack wanted from her.
Tomorrow was Jack’s funeral. His body must have been washed by the funeral director by now. The thought crushed her heart.
“Please rest. You haven’t eaten all day. Would you like some simple oatmeal?”
“No, I’m fine. Eating makes me feel more nauseous.”
Ella had cried herself to sleep all day. In truth, it was Ella’s crying—not Jack’s absence—that pained Lisa most, making his death all the more real. It was a glimpse of how Ella might react when she too inevitably leaves this world. She would cry until her tears ran dry. Even then, sorrow would overwhelm her beyond tears.
Lisa couldn’t bear to watch her daughter suffer like that. Of course, she wouldn’t be there once Ella lost her, but she couldn’t let Ella endure such pain now.
“Marco, I have to survive—no matter what.”
“Yes, you will.”
“I’m serious. I must survive!” Lisa muttered. “I can’t dare commit the evil of death.”
Jack was Catholic. His funeral was to be held at the cathedral, but that didn’t mean nothing happened the day before. Those who could gather at Lisa’s house took a moment to pray for her.
Among them was Rachel. She clasped her hands and closed her eyes quietly. She didn’t know what she prayed for, nor did she try to express her feelings. She simply prayed to God amidst the confusion inside her. Strangely, no tears came. Maybe she still hadn’t fully realized Jack was gone. Or maybe she had long been prepared.
As she pondered this, Lisa approached and handed her a loaf of bread. When Rachel looked at her with eyes slightly moist, Lisa spoke bitterly.
“This is the last bread my dad made. Try it.”
The bread didn’t look glamorous. Rachel reached out slowly and took it. She wasn’t hungry; even if she were, she wouldn’t have felt it. This bread wasn’t to satisfy hunger. It was to feel the last traces of Jack’s life—his final memoir in bread form.
She reflected on Jack’s life as she bit into the bread. The soft inside emerged after biting the rough crust. She sensed a sweetness that seemed as bland as Jack’s life itself. Chestnuts and honey soaked through the bread like melted butter. Each bite told the story of the life Jack lived and the bread he made.
“You overcame your limit, Jack.”
“Did I really?”
“His bread was always delicious, but this is the best he ever made. He always asked if his dishes needed to be flashy, but finally, he overwhelmed grandeur with simplicity.”
Lisa smiled gently at Rachel’s words. Jack valued Rachel’s opinion deeply. He trusted her most after Daniel. Perhaps that was why Rachel regretted so deeply the ten lost years in bitterness.
“My dad will be happy to hear that.”
That night, many guests visited Lisa’s house, including Jack’s friends Amelia and Fabio, Anderson and Janet with baby Catherine.
The next day came.
“Dad.”
At Lisa’s request, Jack was dressed in his cook’s suit, not a formal suit. It was unusual, but Lisa was certain Jack would have preferred this—the suit did not suit him alive, she knew.
Seeing his body washed and neater than he ever looked in life, Lisa felt as though he might rise and order her to make breakfast. But no miracle came.
Lisa quietly took Jack’s cold hands.
“Ella,” she called softly.
Ella kept her eyes tightly closed. Lisa guessed she was too scared to look at her grandfather’s body or unwilling to face his death. She feared Ella had been deeply hurt. Lisa slowly embraced her but said nothing, knowing how hard it was to let go of someone loved before readiness.
How long did Ella wait? Eventually, she opened her eyes, on the verge of tears.
“Did Grandpa leave us?”
“Yeah, he went to a nice place where Grandma and his friends are.”
“Can I see him again?”
Lisa could have said something comforting but chose not to. She didn’t want to lie to her daughter.
“No. So look at your grandpa now as much as you want. You won’t see him after today.”
There was nothing gentle or merciful in her words.
Ella cried sadly, wiping her reddened face, then looked back at Jack as if he were peacefully sleeping. Her tears flowed again, brows furrowed, then she began touching Jack’s face.
Minjoon, Kaya, and Chloe arrived at the funeral as Ella kissed Jack’s forehead and tightly hugged his face. Overwhelmed by the somber mood, each kissed Jack’s cheek or held his hand briefly, sharing muted conversation.
They were sad but could not express it openly, for Lisa and Ella’s sorrow was greater. Who would comfort them if the others wept?
Putting their grief aside, the funeral proceeded. The priest’s prayers resounded, and Minjoon found his mind wandering: Did Jack go to Heaven? If Heaven and Hell existed, surely Jack wouldn’t go to Hell. Would he meet Daniel now? Some said Heaven served all food on thought alone — but would such a world feel like Hell to chefs like Daniel and Jack? Would their bread appear every time a person thought of it? Did Heaven even exist?
As these childish thoughts swirled, the priest’s prayers ended. Soon, Jack’s body would be buried beneath the earth; it was likely the last moment they would see his face.
At that instant, Lisa stepped forward. She pulled some flour from her pocket, rubbed it in her hand, then took Jack’s hand. Observers blushed in embarrassment, but Lisa cared not.
“You said you didn’t want to leave this world with only IV marks on your forearms.”
She withdrew her hand. Jack’s hands and forearms were now powdered white, like a baker’s after making bread moments ago.
“I’ll make your wish come true.”
Funerals are strange affairs. They honour the dead, yet the living seem more the focus. The bereaved suffer more than the departed. Lisa and Ella were no exception.
Watching Rachel, devastated from arrival until the service’s end, Minjoon finally spoke.
“Are you okay?”
“Huh?”
“You look awful.”
“How would I look better in this situation?” Rachel replied with a bitter smile.
She thought she always knew death was near, but she hadn’t truly realised it. Had she done so, Jack’s death would not feel so unreal.
“But I won’t falter.”
Daniel’s death shattered her so deeply she disappeared for ten years. She was determined not to repeat that mistake—Daniel was not the only one close to her.
After burying the coffin, Lisa and Ella took a long time before throwing soil on it. No one pressured them.
Rachel murmured softly, “He would have no regrets now.”
“Regrets?”
“I ate the last bread Jack made,” she said without a smile. “He overcame his limit. It was the best bread I ever tasted — the best in the world — even if not freshly baked.”
“You can make the same bread.”
“Me?”
“You said Jack overcame his limit. Those limits aren’t real because you can overcome them. When you do, you realise they aren’t such a big deal.”
“Oh gosh, you’re messing with my head.”
“Well, I’m good at sounding serious.”
Rachel turned to him quietly.