The self-deprecating humor of a 90-year-old’s post-depression tendencies.
An elderly man, confined to bed with a terminal diagnosis, thought that he was hallucinating. Yet, the delicious smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies permeated his bedroom like a dream of Heaven. Figuring “What the hell do I have to lose?” he rolled out of bed with a thump onto the carpet and slowly, painfully, crawled to the kitchen where he spied the object of his desire cooling on a platter. With great effort, he gripped the counter ledge and pulled himself up just far enough to reach for a warm gooey cookie. Just then a searing pain erupted on his hand as his wife delivered a ferocious whack with a wooden spoon. With piteous eyes he said “What did you do that for?” and she hissed back “They are for the FUNERAL”.
That was my mom.