True Love

True love. An elderly Scotsman is dying. He is lying in his bed. When he thinks he smells home baking, or is it in his head? With all of the strength he can muster, he reaches his bedroom door. Crawls on all fours downstairs ignoring his pain so sore. He finally arrives at the kitchen, stares at the groaning big table. Covered in home made biscuits made by his sweet wife Mable. He"d loved her for fifty odd years in fact for all of his life. Was this a last act of kindness from a loving devoted wife? She knew he loved her home baking and the table was laden indeed. There was every conceivable biscuit just waiting for someone to feed. The old man felt so humble like this was the promised land. With dying breath he reached... when a spatula whacked his frail hand. "Sod off, they"re for the funeral."