>
>LOVE
>
>An elderly Scotsman lay dying in his bed. While suffering the 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 downstairs.
>
>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 Scottish wife of
>sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
>
>Mustering one great final 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 in his mouth was 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......
>
>
>“**** off" she said, "they're for the funeral."
