On a similar note...

[mapsedge]

It's late in the afternoon, and Ole lays in his bed, dying.  Into his contemplation of The Eternal, he smells something...a smell, coming from the kitchen...a little starchy...a little sweet...could it be..?

Lefsa.  His favorite holiday treat, and his wife, Lena, is making it downstairs in their kitchen.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he climbs out of bed.  Lacking the strength to walk, he crawls to the door.  Yes, it's lefsa, the smell of it wafting up the stairs and into the room on the slight draft through the door.  He crawls to the top of the stairs and inhales deeply.  One step after another, he crawls his way downstairs to the door of the kitchen. He pulls himself hand over hand to the counter, his eyes fixed on the cooling rack there on the edge.  He musters all his strength and pulls himself up, reaching...reaching...reaching for one final taste, one small...
The spatula smacks his hand, and Lena says, sternly, "Now, Ole, dontcha be doin' dat.  Dose are fur de funeral."