Carry On Tuesday – Stop All The Clocks….(W. H. Auden)

Little girl with a dead bird , Jens Adolph Jer...

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Gayle had been sick for years, but her demise was so slow, so painstakingly slow, that it was difficult to judge. She was always very soft-spoken, she talked with a delicate, hushed whisper, always. I always thought if she were an animal, she would be a beautiful young doe.  She was to me still  a beautiful doe, but now older deer and very sick. She wanted no visitors, no-one at all except for her beloved husband of 55 years who remained the love of her life. They wanted only each other through good times and bad; it seemed unimaginable, a love like no other. As you get older that there are not only few happy endings but none.

Her doctor has sent his nurse to their apartment once a week now to check her vital signs; that was the most he could do for her. Her breathing was labored, her muscles had atrophied, she no longer could walk. Paul, her husband, did everything for her; he carried her from room to room, he coaxed  her to eat a teaspoon of chocolate pudding, he sat near her when she was sleeping. He didn’t want her to wake up from a long nap afraid, her voice was so low he was afraid she would call for him and he wouldn’t hear her. He had workers come and put intercoms throughout their house. It made him feel better, to know they were installed even though she probably didn’t have enough strength to push the button.

One afternoon,after she was asleep, he went to his office for a few moments to pay some bills, to grieve for a few moments by himself. This burly, big-hearted man had become nothing but a shell of himself. Once burly and robust he was now thin, his face sallow, the light in his eyes gone. He rubbed his face with his hands, dried the tears, and a long, deep breath and slowly walked back into their bedroom.

He knew something was wrong the second he opened their door, he could sense it without seeing anything or hearing anything. “Gayle” he shouted, “Gayle, wake up” but of course, she didn’t.  He sobbed and shook her, his beautiful wife, cold and stiff, dead, like a tiny dead bird. He screamed, “It was just one minute, why, Jesus, why did you have to take her in those few minutes?” He laid down next to her and bawled like a child. This was a love so primitive, his only love.

He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t do anything for a long time. He stayed on the bed with her, not moving, not being able to call their children or close friends.”Stop all the clocks, let time stand still, I can’t go on without her” he sobbed. He got up once, many hours later when it was dark outside. He tiptoed to his locked cabinet where he had secretly kept a gun that no one knew about. He got back on to the bed, next to his beloved and at some time in the middle of the night he shot himself in the head, and died next to her.

Nobody knew for two or three days; a concerned friend, after trying to call them for days, finally called the police. The police found them together, in bed, both dead, Life was not worth living without his wife, he had always said. He meant it.

7 thoughts on “Carry On Tuesday – Stop All The Clocks….(W. H. Auden)

  1. This story reminds me of a dear Aunt and Uncle of mine. She died first and with no children he had no one but neices and nephews. We were afraid for him. He died shortly after her, he was in his 90’s, but we always have thought he died of a broken heart. Beautiful writing Laurie!


    • They know say that people do die or can die of what is known as a “broken heart” readily acceped in the medical community now. what we have known all along. Mo, i’ve got to get you on the phone sometime if u r up to it, knowing us we’d be laughing before we’d be talking. what do you think? off to rheumatologoist. fun fun.

      Warm wishes, Laurie



  2. Whoa – I had to zip back here … I didn’t realize you had written this to a prompt and now feel a bit foolish … my comment still holds true even if your essay/item/article is fiction but I guess I should’ve realized that before making it …


    • why would you feel foolish at all? It was sweet of you to come back and explain but no need. Between you and me, everything (most everything) I write has some element of truth to it. There is a couple I know that this is based on…..luckily, she is still alive, but barely. Thank you for reading (and writing) my blog. Laurie

      Warm wishes, Laurie



  3. This is so beautiful … and poignant … and heart-breaking. No proponent of suicide, I do understand this man’s desperation … after a 55 year marriage to a woman he obviously adored; the shock of her dying when he had just stepped away from her for a few moments … may the angels smile on them both and be gentle with their souls. You wrote about this with eloquence and a rare tenderness. Thank you.


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