Walter and June had been married for seventy years. They had met in a small, Boise diner in 1942 and not two years later, they were married. Walter and June were inseparable, to say the least. Their closeness and unending love for each other is what made the last few months so hard on poor, old Walter.
See, in June's old age, she started growing ever more senile. Eventually, after many incidents involving June forgetting things and hurting herself, Walter sat with his family one crisp evening and received the news that the entire family felt that it was time to put June in a home.
"Okay. I guess I see your point," muttered a shocked Walter, "she has been pretty forgetful lately. I will only agree to this if I choose which place she ends up at. I don't want no lazy bum of a nurse to watch over my June."
After his eldest daughter, Carrie, did some research on some places for June to go, she showed Walter the best recommended nursing home online, Peaceful Creek Nursing Home. Carrie explained to Walter about how the nurses are very well hyped and that almost no residents ever complain about the staff. After much consideration, Walter went along with Peaceful Creek and June received the news. Not two weeks later, June had moved to the quiet building where she could live out the rest of her days in peace. Walter knew it was for the best, but it still didn't keep him from crying as June left for the nursing home.
Two months passed, and decrepit, old Walter never missed a single visit. He would go every Wednesday to see his senile wife and talk for the hour the staff would let him visit. June often rambled on about how much she enjoyed the nursing home and went on and on about how great the staff was. This always made Walter happy, often making him well up with tears. Walter adored those visits and they soon became the highlight of his week.
Eventually, Christmas went and past and June was able to stay with Walter for the first time in months. The whole family celebrated Christmas together for the first time in ages. Even his son living in Calgary, Canada was flown in to visit and celebrate the holidays. Walter knew this sense of happiness wouldn't last very long and a week after New Year's, Carrie got in her Honda with June beside her and set off back to Peaceful Creek, much to the dismay of Walter.
"How was your visit, mom?" asked Carrie, her eyes fixed on the icy road ahead of them.
"It was so great, Carrie. It was nice being able to see all of my family again. I can't believe that you got so many people to come over!!! I'm not that important, dear!" June replied.
"Yes, you are. Don't even say that. It isn't everyday that the entire family gets to see you now, and when we do, it should be special," Carrie said, her eyes turning away from the snow and ice on the road and towards her mom.
June opened her mouth to speak just as the car hit a rough patch of ice and lost control. Walter got a phone call later that day by the hospital that Carrie's car had lost control and drove into an old maple tree. Carrie had escaped with minor injuries, while June had lost a good amount of blood. Walter hung up his old rotary phone, grabbed his cane, and drove to the hospital to visit both of his loved ones. He got there, and after talking with some doctors, he found out that Carrie would be fine, but June had lost a lot of blood and her blood type, AB+, was too rare to find a blood donor so quickly. Walter made his way to see June, her pale skin was the most notable change besides the cuts and bruises. He couldn't help but stare at his love, her nose and cheeks broken and in critical condition. He left a bit later, his wife half dead and without a blood donor.
That night, he had the worst sleep he had had in years. He stayed up all night thinking about how much suffering his ninety-four year old wife is feeling. Tired of thinking of her suffering, and going through emotional turmoil, he thought of the one plan that would ease his soul. He waited a few days to see if blood could be transfused, but no donor could be matched. So, he decided to set his plan into action. One snowy afternoon, he grabbed his pocket knife, fetched his cane, and preceded to make his way to the hospital, for one last visit with June.
He opened her hospital room door, his hands trembling. He pulled up an old chair and sat beside the bed of his loved one, thinking about how much pain she must be in. After ten minutes of sitting next to her frail, sleeping body, he struggled to stand up. He pulled out his pocket knife and walked over to his injured darling. He placed his left hand on the mouth of his wife and bent over and whispered his last message he had for her, "I'm sorry, June. There isn't any hope for you anymore. Know that I'm doing this with loving intentions, my love bug."
He then brought his knife to her throat and slit it in a slow and rough movement. Tears streamed down the face of the empty shell of a man formerly known as Walter, blood seeping out of June's slit throat and trickling down onto the bed sheets. Walter again lifted his pocket knife, this time to his gut. The crimson waterfall of blood on the knife dripped every so slowly. After saying one last prayer, Walter plunged the knife into his own stomach, his will to live completely gone.
He slumped back onto his chair, the knife sticking out of his stomach. He felt happy that his wife no longer had to feel the pain she suffered about a week ago. Blood dripped from his mouth, as he heard someone outside the door. It was the doctor who had been looking for blood for June talking with another doctor. Walter overheard the last few words of the conversation between the doctors, his mind slipping into the grasp of death.
"I'm sure that her poor husband will be very glad with the news. It may have taken days, but we finally found enough AB+ for June."