In the quiet stillness of June 5, 1993, the country music world lost one of its most iconic voices—Conway Twitty, a man whose songs about love, heartbreak, and redemption became the soundtrack of millions of lives. But for those closest to him, especially his wife Delores “Dee” Henry Jenkins, that day was not about stardom—it was about the personal loss of a husband, a best friend, and a soul deeply rooted in family.
For decades, Dee Twitty remained private about Conway’s final hours. But now, in a rare and deeply emotional recollection, she has broken her silence. Speaking with unshakable honesty, she revealed the quiet tragedy of those final moments—a memory that, as she says, “still haunts me.”
According to Dee, Conway had been feeling unwell but chose to continue his tour schedule out of loyalty to his fans and team. “That was just him,” she shared. “He always put others before himself.” The aneurysm struck suddenly while he was on the road, and by the time he was rushed to a hospital in Springfield, Missouri, time was slipping away. Despite the best efforts of doctors, Twitty’s condition rapidly deteriorated.
What adds another layer of emotion to that heartbreaking day is the unexpected presence of Loretta Lynn, his longtime friend and duet partner, who was at the same hospital visiting her own husband. It was fate—or perhaps something more—that allowed her to say a final goodbye to the man with whom she shared a lifetime of musical history. “She cried like I’ve never seen her cry,” Dee revealed. “That was a goodbye neither of them ever expected.”
Dee’s voice trembled as she recalled the final words Conway spoke to her—words she’s chosen to keep private. “Some things,” she said softly, “are just between two people who loved each other through everything.”
More than 30 years after his passing, Conway Twitty’s legacy lives on—not just in his 55 number-one hits, or the countless awards, or even his posthumous Country Music Hall of Fame induction. It lives in the hearts of those who knew him as more than a star, but as a man of compassion, humility, and deep family loyalty.
And for Dee, that memory—the final heartbeat of a life lived for music and love—is both a burden and a blessing. “I still hear his voice when the house is quiet,” she said. “I don’t think that part ever goes away.”
