His Last Cookie
An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death’s agony, he suddenly smells the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs. He gathers his remaining strength and lifts himself from the bed.
Leaning against the wall, he slowly makes his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forces himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands.
With labored breath, he leans 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 racks 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 throws himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips part; the wondrous taste of the cookie was nearly in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life.
The aged and withered hand, shaking, makes its way to a cookie at the edge of the table — where it is suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife. “Stay out of those!” she said. “They’re for the funeral.”