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A TOUCHING STORY OF LOVE AND MARRIAGE
An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, 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 forced himself 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 upon newspapers 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 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, shakeingly made its way to a
cookie at
the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his
wife.
"Stay out of those," she yelled, "they're for the funeral."
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<TITLE>A TOUCHING STORY OF LOVE AND MARRIAGE</TITLE>
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<P><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New">A TOUCHING STORY OF LOVE AND MARRIAGE</FONT>
</P>
<P><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In
death's agony, he suddenly</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate
chip cookies wafting up the</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> stairs.</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> He gathered his remaining strength, and
lifted himself from the bed.</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> Leaning against the wall, he slowly
made his way out of the bedroom, and</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> with</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> even greater effort forced himself down the
stairs, gripping the railing</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> with both hands.</FONT>
</P>
<P><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> With labored breath, he leaned against
the door frame, gazing into the</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> kitchen.</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> Were it not for death's agony, he would have
thought himself already in</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> heaven.</FONT>
</P>
<P><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> There, spread out upon newspapers on the
kitchen table were literally</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> hundreds of his favorite chocolate
chip cookies. Was it heaven? Or was</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> it one final act of heroic love from his
devoted wife, seeing to it that</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New">he left this world a happy man?</FONT>
</P>
<P><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> Mustering one great final effort, he threw
himself toward the table,</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> landing on his knees in a rumpled posture.
His parched lips parted; the</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> wondrous</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> taste of the cookie was already in his
mouth; seemingly bringing him</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> back to life. The aged and withered
hand, shakeingly made its way to a</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> cookie at</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> the edge of the table, when it was suddenly
smacked with a spatula by his</FONT>
<BR><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> wife.</FONT>
</P>
<P><FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"> "Stay out of those," she yelled,
"they're for the funeral."</FONT>
</P>
</BODY>
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