During the two years of my husband's terminal illness, death was never far from my mind. We had been told he was dying and even a time in which it was supposed to happen. We had no idea of how it would happen. I was loathe to let him out of my sight incase he should suddenly die and not return to me and woke each day fearing that he may have died during the night. Towards the end of his illness I sensed that death was near, waiting in the shadows to steal my love from me and wrote the following poem.

Death, it waits in the shadows

But it sneaks ever closer

I can sense it- almost smell it

Tangible- real- waiting

Death it waits like a vulture

Watching the once strong body falter

But it has no notion of will

The will to live which fights on

Refusing to see death even though

It stares him in the face

It does not honour courage

But I, witness to this brave struggle

Will forever hold my love in awe

His courage humbles me

His uncomplaining nature humbles me

His love un-changing and ever true

Holds me up

Despite his prognosis of three to nine months, Brian survived for two years. His courage never wavered and he fought a valiant battle to the end. Bed bound just three days prior to his death, he passed away at home surrounded by his loved ones. He was 54 years old.