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? 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. 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, shockingly 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."