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 doorframe of the kitchen and gazed at the delightful site before him. Were it not for death’s agony he would have thought himself already in heaven: there spread out upon racks on the kitchen table and counters were literally hundreds of his favorite cookie! Was it heaven or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left his 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, imagining the wondrous taste of the cookie as though it was already in his mouth. He knew he could die a happy man if he could taste just one of those warm, gooey cookies.
“Stay out of those,” his wife said, “they’re for the funeral.”