One of the many adjustments I have made in my life since I lost my bride, Kathy Anne, to cancer more than three years ago involves the issue of simplicity.
My life today — at this moment — is as uncomplicated as it can possibly be. And that is saying something.
Kathy Anne and I were joined at the hip for more than 51 years. I met her in college, we fell in love almost on sight, we married eight months later. I was 21 and she was 19. We embarked on a journey that took us around the world. We managed to set our feet in 48 of the 50 states that make up our great nation. We produced two nearly perfect sons, one of whom got married to a perfect wife and they delivered us a perfect granddaughter.
Much of that great life crashed and burned on Feb. 3, 2023, when glioblastoma finished its dirty work on Kathy Anne.
The adjustment in my own life began the moment my bride drew her final breath. We all cried. We miss her to this very moment.
But … the adjustment was inevitable. The pain began to recede a little at a time. It became manageable. My tears won’t ever stop welling up in my eyes.
The greatest adjustment has been adapting to a simple life. You know what? It’s nice, man! I can go wherever I want whenever I want. My weekly schedule is fairly full these days, as I have joined a marvelous Presbyterian church, where a gang of new friends invites me to this and that event. I joined the Farmersville Rotary Club, which is a small club in number but it packs a bit of a punch in lending its civic-minded membership to various community service tasks that need doing.
I deliver Meals on Wheels in Princeton each Monday, and the clients I meet at each visit are some of the nicest folks I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.
I will now admit to something I’ve kept to myself for the past three-plus years. Every now and then, someone will ask me for my marital status. For a very long time after I lost my bride, I struggled with saying the word “widowed” or “widower.” I have shaken off that emotional burden, although I do admit to some unease with identifying myself as “single.”
My emotional journey is complete. The better news is that I have learned how to live a simple life.