An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smells the aroma of his favourite 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 his way down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands.

With laboured breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for deaths agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven: there, spread out upon racks on the kitchen table and counters were literally hundreds of his favourite chocolate chip cookies.

Was it heaven? Or was it the one final act of love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

Mustering one final great effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted... the wonderous taste of the cookie already in his mouth.

The aged and withered hand , shakingly made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was smacked with a spatula by his wife.

"Stay out of those," she said. "They are for the funeral."

S