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An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of
impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite Italian anisette
sprinkled 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.
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Where, if 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 anisette sprinkled cookies.
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Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Italian
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 crumpled posture.
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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 ... "Leave them alone," she said, "They're for the
funeral."
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