For The Funeral
An elderly man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of
impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate
drop 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, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled
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, for there, cooling on the kitchen counter, were literally
hundreds of his favorite cookies.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife
of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards 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 counter, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by
"Back off!" she said. "They're for the funeral."