Almost Gone... Poem by heather sweeting

Only her shoes on the shoe rack now,
his, in a bag by the door.
Now they've taken him to the Hospice,
she says he won't need them anymore.
One cereal bowl on the draining board,
a single mug on the tray.
Less water to boil in the kettle
since they took him away that day.

He had lost his hold on reality,
no idea of the date or the time.
Despite her best efforts to bring him back
there was no way to halt his decline.
So, she's taken his pillows from the their bed,
placing hers in the centre there,
but she can't rearrange the pain she feels
that she failed to manage his care.

Those sixty years of marriage
seem so brief, now he's almost gone.
Nothing tangible to hang on to,
no shoulder to lean upon.
There he is in ‘Bomber Command',
in the picture on the wall.
She smiles recalling their ‘postings',
how well she remembers them all.

Those exciting times in Singapore,
they brought back jade and pearls,
and then they were based in Changi,
where they mingled with Dukes and Earls!
That's what she fights to remember,
not the man, now beset by disease,
desperately fighting for every breath,
once strong, now brought to his knees.

She wants him to go now, quickly,
spared a slow and lingering death,
and she can't sit there and watch him,
when he draws his final breath.
Is she selfish to wish his life would end?
Would she have him stay, given choice?
These are the questions she holds in her mind -
that she knows she will never voice.