The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
346
The Don moved through his garden hunting for ants. If ants were present, it meant that 
lice were in his vegetables and the ants were going after the lice and he would have to 
spray. 
He had watered just in time. The sun was becoming hot and the Don thought, 
“Prudence. Prudence.” But there were just a few more plants to be supported by sticks 
and he bent down again. He would go back into the house when he finished this last 
row. 
Quite suddenly it felt as if the sun had come down very close to his head. The air filled 
with dancing golden specks. Michael’s oldest boy came running through the garden 
toward where the Don knelt and the boy was enveloped by a yellow shield of blinding 
light. But the Don was not to be tricked, he was too old a hand. Death hid behind that 
flaming yellow shield ready to pounce out on him and the Don with a wave of his hand 
warned the boy away from his presence. Just in time. The sledgehammer blow inside 
his chest made him choke for air. The Don pitched forward into the earth. 
The boy raced away to call his father. Michael Corleone and some men at the mall gate 
ran to the garden and found the Don lying prone, clutching handfuls of earth. They lifted 
the Don up and carried him to the shade of his stone-flagged patio. Michael knelt beside 
his father, holding his hand, while the other men called for an ambulance and doctor. 
With a great effort the Don opened his eyes to see his son once more. The massive 
heart attack had turned his ruddy face almost blue. He was in extremis. He smelled the 
garden, the yellow shield of light smote his eyes, and he whispered, “Life is so 
beautiful.” 
He was spared the sight of his women’s tears, dying before they came back from 
church, dying before the ambulance arrived, or the doctor. He died surrounded by men, 
holding the hand of the son he had most loved. 
The funeral was royal. The Five Families sent their Dons and caporegimes, as did the 
Tessio and Clemenza Families. Johnny Fontane made the tabloid headlines by 
attending the funeral despite the advice of Michael not to appear. Fontane gave a 
statement to the newspapers that Vito Corleone was his Godfather and the finest man 
he had ever known and that he was honored to be permitted to pay his last respects to 
such a man and didn’t give a damn who knew it. 
The wake was held in the house of the mall, in the old-fashioned style. Amerigo 
Bonasera had never done finer work, had discharged all obligations, by preparing his 

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