The Day My Husband Passed

At six thirty in the morning,

the nurse’s call wakes me.

Relieved but unable to drive,

I call my father—he agrees to take me.


This is it—I’m a widow–why so soon?

He just turned seventy.

We were married only seven years.

I took care of him for six.

He wanted to make it ten.


Driving through the streets,

I see, hear, feel nothing.

When we arrive, I hurry to his room,

to his bedside where he lies,

swathed from head to toe.


I uncover his face,

eyes, mouth closed,

body at peace,

kiss his brow,

bury my face in his hair,

hold him, tell him I love him,

pack his belongings, leave,

my life having turned another corner.




To hear me read this poem, go to .




Three years ago today, my husband Bill died after a month in a nursing home when I could no longer care for him. We would have been married ten years last month. Happy Death Day, sweetheart.



Abbie J. Taylor 010Author Abbie Johnson Taylor

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Author: abbiejohnsontaylor

I'm the author of two novels,, two poetry collections, and a memoir with another novel on the way. My work has appeared in various journals and anthologies. I'm visually impaired and live in Sheridan, Wyoming, where for six years, I cared for my totally blind late husband who was paralyzed by two strokes. Please visit my website at

6 thoughts on “The Day My Husband Passed”

  1. I am thinking of you Abbie. The hurt always comes back along with other negative memories. Bill was a great man and loved you such a lot. The more you love the more you hurt, but it eventually softens over time.


  2. Abbie–The final line of your amazing poem gives new meaning to the title of your blog–“Abbie’s Corner of the World.” I admire your ability to put into words such heart-breaking scenes and remembrances. Blessings–Alice


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