The cake was only alive for a few minutes.  A funeral was held. Some called it a wake for a cake.

The cake’s death was Unfair. Death-ed by chocolate. Proportions unheeded. Measurements gone to shit. So many parameters, components, integrity of ingredients, dozens of small but important missteps along the way, leading to a disastrous outcome.

Following the wake, mourners refused to gather in clumps for photo ops. (The widow of the cake had hired a photographer.) They preferred to remember the cake when it was alive, however short that life was ,and when the camera came around, they shunned it, put their hands, or handkerchiefs or funeral programs to their faces.