moparstuart
Well-Known Member
The awesome power of a wife's love
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>
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> A very old man lay dying in his bed. In death's doorway, he
> suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip
> cookie 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 up on 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. The aged and withered hand, shaking, made its way
> to a cookie at the edge of the table, when he was suddenly
> smacked with a wooden spoon by his wife.
>
> "Stay out of those," she said. "They're for the funeral."
>
>
>
>
>
>
> A very old man lay dying in his bed. In death's doorway, he
> suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip
> cookie 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 up on 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. The aged and withered hand, shaking, made its way
> to a cookie at the edge of the table, when he was suddenly
> smacked with a wooden spoon by his wife.
>
> "Stay out of those," she said. "They're for the funeral."
