An elderly man lay dying in his bed. Suddenly death's
agony was pushed aside as he smelled the aroma of his favorite homemade
chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs.
Gathering his remaining strength, he lifted himself up
from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the
bedroom, and with intense concentration, supported himself down the stairs,
gripping the railing with both hands. In labored breath, he leaned against the
door frame, gazing wide-eyed into the kitchen.
There, spread out on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite 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?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward
the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture, one hand on the edge of
the table. The aged and withered hand quiveringly made its way to a cookie near
the edge of the table; feeling the warm soft dough actually made the pain of
his bones subside for a moment. His parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of
the cookie was already in his mouth; seemingly bringing him back to life.
What, then, was this sudden stinging that caused his hand
to recoil?
He looked to see his wife, still holding the spatula she
had just used to smack his hand.
"Stay out of those!" she said, "they're
for the funeral."
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