Death, like everything in their 62-year marriage, was something the Mosers faced together.
Eighty-four-year-old Robert, whose health had declined steadily in recent years, always expected to go first. His 80-year-old wife, Darlene, had been his steady caretaker at the Seatter Road home they built with their own hands.
That is, until December, when a cancer gave her precious few weeks of life to live.
When Robert learned Darlene was terminally ill, he quickly grumbled: "I'm terminal, too."
The claim drew scoffs from his family. But he was serious.
And as his wife lay beside him in her last moments on Jan. 23, Robert, too, began to die, to the amazement of his family and hospice caretakers.
Only six hours separated their deaths.
It was a bittersweet moment for the couple's five children and extended family.
They'd lost their mother and father. But their parents the couple who lived and breathed love for one another, who spooned together every night while watching the news, who even walked to their mailbox in tandem had received their last wish.
"I don't think you can explain our rejoicing," said Marie Townsend, 55, their second daughter. "They ebbed and flowed together. They were truly one. And when she died, half of him died."
h/t to BillH at Free in Idaho
Book Review: The Names Of Dead Girls
8 hours ago