An old man lay dying in his bed when lo and behold, he smelled the aroma of his favorite food — chocolate chip cookies — wafting up the stairs.
He gathered what little was left of 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 climbed 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 on newspapers on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Was it heaven, after all?
Mustering one great final effort, he edged closer to the table, reaching as his aged and withered hand made its halting way to the closest cookie. That’s when his wife smacked him with her spatula.
“Stay out of those,” she said. “They’re for the funeral.