In Her Final Days, Maureen O’Hara Shared With Reba McEntire the Goodbye That Still Haunts Hollywood

Los Angeles, CA — It was a quiet afternoon in late 2015 when Reba McEntire visited the legendary actress Maureen O’Hara, just weeks before O’Hara passed away at the age of 95.

The Queen of Country walked into a private room in a Los Angeles hospital to pay her respects to the Queen of Technicolor. Even in her frailty, Maureen was as sharp-tongued and gracious as ever — her famous red hair now silver but her eyes still full of that Irish fire.

What Reba didn’t expect was the deeply personal story Maureen chose to share that day — one that Reba has called “one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking things I’ve ever heard.”

Two Icons, One Quiet Afternoon

The two women talked about Hollywood, about their careers, about what it meant to grow up and grow old in the public eye. Then Maureen grew quiet, her gaze drifting toward the window as the light of the California sun began to soften.

And she began to talk about John Wayne.

She told Reba how, decades earlier, she had spent three days at The Duke’s bedside as he fought his final battle — not in the saddle, but on a hospital bed.

The Last Dance of the Duke and the Irish Rose

She painted the scene vividly for Reba:

He was thin and pale, seated by the window as the sunset bled into the room. His eyes, though tired, were still brighter than the California sky that day.

For three days, she stayed with him. They spoke about their youth — the fiery Irish girl and the gallant American cowboy. They laughed about their on-set fights, remembered the love scenes and the breakups, the families they built and the friendship that endured through decades of fame.

“I pretended to be the cheerful Irish every day,” Maureen confided to Reba, “so he wouldn’t see how much I was crying on the inside.”

And then she told her about the moment she finally had to leave. Maureen took his hand, kissed his cheek, and whispered:

“I love you, Duke.”

And John Wayne, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, replied:

“I love you, my kind of woman.”

Maureen paused here, her eyes wet with tears that Reba could see still carried the weight of that goodbye.

“There were no cameras then,” Maureen told her. “Because that was the one time we didn’t have to act.”

A Goodbye Larger Than the Screen

Reba sat silently, holding Maureen’s hand as she finished her story. The two women shared a quiet understanding — about love, about loss, about what it meant to live a life for others to watch.

“He was the best American I ever met,” Maureen said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “His heart was even bigger than his legend.”

Why Reba Still Tells the Story

Years later, Reba would describe that afternoon as one of the most humbling moments of her life.

“I walked in that room thinking I was visiting a legend,” Reba has said, “but I left having been given a gift — a story of a love and a friendship so real, it didn’t need an audience.”

She has never shared more of what Maureen confided that day — and perhaps she never will.

“Some stories,” Reba once said in an interview, “are too beautiful to tell all at once. You just carry them with you.”

Conclusion

For a brief moment that day in 2015, two icons of their crafts sat together, one nearing the end of her journey, the other still in the middle of hers, united by a quiet story of love, loyalty, and humanity that neither fame nor time could diminish.

It was, as Reba describes it, “a reminder that even legends are still just people — and sometimes, their real story happens when nobody’s watching.”

And maybe that’s why Maureen O’Hara wanted her to know.