An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smelled
the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed.
Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and
with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the
railing with both hands. With labored breath, he leaned against the door
frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would
have thought himself already in heaven. There, spread out upon newspapers
on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate
chip cookies. Was it heaven? Was it one final act of heroic love from his
devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering
one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table, landing on his
knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of
the cookie was already in his mouth; seemingly bringing him back to life.
The aged and withered hand, shakingly made its way to a cookie at the edge
of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife.
Stay out of those," she said, "they're for the funeral."