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 https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/15213189/the%20day%20my%20husband%20passed.mp3 .

 

***

 

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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That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

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