An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite 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, he crawled downstairs.
laboured 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 waxed paper on the kitchen
table were literally hundreds of his favourite chocolate chip cookies.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted
wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
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 trembled on its way to a cookie at the
edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his
"Stay out of those," she said, "they're for the funeral."