KINGSTON, Wash. - 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.

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In retirement, they never left each other's sides. If a check needed depositing, they went to the bank together. Grocery shopping was done in tandem. The pair even ventured to the mailbox together everyday unless one was too ill to do so.

They spooned on the couch as long as their bodies would let them.

The biggest shock came when Darlene was found to have a cancer growth. On Dec. 23, she went into the hospital, and learned the growth was terminal. She refused to be at the hospital for Christmas, however, and went home to be with Robert against doctor's orders.

It was then Robert began to say that he, too, was terminally ill. Kitsap Hospice came and cared for the couple.

Robert even brought up Washington's recently approved assisted suicide law, which goes into effect March 4.

"Sign me up," he told the hospice staff, and even his own doctor.

Before their deaths, they also knew their family was healthy and happy, including one of their youngest daughters, Marlene, who lives on Bainbridge. Though she'd fought breast cancer, she now had a clean bill of heath.

The family had prayed for her to get better, and Robert added his special plea: To die with his wife.

In the days before their deaths, hospice had a special bed put into the couple's bedroom, where youthful pictures of Robert and Darlene hang above their respective bedsides. Robert, in their own bed, held her hand tight as she began to die.

At 2:45 a.m. Jan. 23, she went. The sisters, Diana and Marie, delivered the news to Robert. There were many tears, Diana recalled.

"Are you OK," Diana asked him. And for the first time their oldest daughter ever remembers, he said in his last word: "No."

Not long after, the nurse came to check on Robert. Astonishingly, his vital signs began to fail. His breathing became broken. He was actively dying, the nurse told the family. There were no drugs or methods he'd used to quicken death; it just began to happen.

They gave him two days to live, tops. Instead, he joined his wife in death only six hours after hers.

Robert and Darlene, whose services were held Thursday, will be buried in the same way they lived their lives together.

In the same casket