The Last Wish
An elderly man lay dying in his bed. While
agonies of impending death, 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,
gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled down the stairs.
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, spread out upon waxed paper 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 of sixty years, 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 trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge
of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife, "Don't Ernest!" she said, "They're for the funeral."