An elderly man was at home, dying in bed. He smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies baking. He wanted one last cookie before he died.
He fell out of bed, crawled to the landing, rolled down the stairs, and crawled into the kitchen where his wife was busily baking cookies. With waning strength he crawled to the table and was just barely able to lift his arm to the cookie sheet. As he grasped a warm, moist, chocolate chip cookie—his favorite kind—his wife suddenly whacked his hand with a spatula.
“Why,” he whispered, “why did you do that?”
“They’re for the funeral!” she replied.