A very old man lay dying in his bed. In death's doorway, he suddenly
smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookie wafting up the
He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself from the bed.
Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom,
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 up on newspapers 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.
The aged and withered hand, shaking, made its way to a cookie at the
edge of the table, when he was suddenly smacked with a wooden spoon by
"Stay out of those," she said. "They're for the funeral."