It’s been a minute or two since I last wrote about the emotional journey I have undertaken since the worst day of my life came and went just shy of three years ago.
I believe my most recent post on High Plains Blogger mentioned that my journey was for all intents complete. That I had turned an important emotional corner since Feb. 3, 2023 when my bride, Kathy Anne, drew her final breath.
Indeed, my suffering is far less intense today than it was three years ago. I can smile, laugh at bawdy jokes and carry on as I used to do with my wife of 51 years. I have redefined “good” as it applies to my personal well-being and I am comfortable with saying I am “good” now. That’s an important thing for me.
I am also going to reveal on this blog a bit of news for you, which is that I am in a relationship with a woman who understands the journey I am still traveling. I won’t go into detail about her, other than to say we enjoy each other’s company.
My journey also has put me in touch with fellow brothers in grief. Many of them have lost their wives even more recently than I lost my bride to glioblastoma, an aggressive form of brain cancer. The question comes from them: I can’t stop crying when I think of her. When will it stop? My answer? It won’t ever stop. Do not try to make it stop, because human emotion can be like a runaway freight train. You can manage it. I know that to be true, because I am able to manage my own emotions.
I had a moment today at lunch with one of my sons. He and I were talking about the upcoming date of commemoration and he recalled having dinner with his Mom and me. During our time together, Kathy Anne announced to my sons, our daughter-in-law, our granddaughter and me that in five years we were going to throw a huge party to salute her being “cancer free.” She was recovering nicely from the brain surgery she had to remove part of the tumor. We weren’t able to have that party, as just a few days later, Kathy Anne suffered a grand mal seizure … from which she didn’t recover.
My son’s recalling that statement from his Mom, however, filled me with sadness. My eyes got wet. I wanted to cry out loud. I held back.
These are the kinds of events that continue to tug at my ticker. But I am able to manage my emotions.
I don’t know what will occur a couple of days from now. I don’t expect the day will overwhelm me. I’ll have to run a couple of errands that will take me away from the house for most of the morning. I’ll drive to Bonham to see the Veterans Administration medics who take good care of me.
Feb. 3 always will be a day I will never forget. Not ever! It comemmorates the worst day I hope to ever experience during my time on this good Earth.
I’ll just add this. Kathy Anne instructed me to be happy if that day ever arrived and like most dutiful husbands I know, I always do what I am told.