With his last moments on earth, an old man is replaying his favorite rounds of golf in his head.
He remembers when he was first married, how he came home from the course one day to the most wonderful chocolate chip cookies.
It'd been years since his wife had baked them for him, but as he lay there, gasping for each breath, he was sure he could smell those cookies. Crawling out of bed, he dragged himself down the stairs and into the kitchen where he finds--oh, joy!-his wife with a big platter of his favorite, freshly baked cookies.
With his last bit of strength, he is slowly reaching out for one when she slaps his hand.
"Don't touch those" she orders. "They're for the funeral"