The next major hurdle looms just ahead on my journey through my intense grief. I am looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time.
We’re traveling to Amarillo very soon to conduct a memorial service to honor the life of my beloved bride, Kathy Anne. My sons, daughter-in-law and granddaughter and I are returning to the place where Kathy Anne and I cultivated many friendships; we spent more years in the Texas Panhandle than we did in any other place where we lived during our 51 years together. My sisters will be there, traveling from the Pacific Coast to bid their goodbye.
I expect to get a lot of hugs and expressions of love from many friends.
I anticipate a lot of tears along the way. Then again, that’s nothing new. I have spent many private moments since Feb. 3 crying. My friends tell me it’s natural. They tell me not to rush my full recovery. Mourning takes time, they tell me.
I get it. I am prepared for the long haul. This next obstacle will be difficult to overcome. However, I have noted already that I am far from the first human being to lose the love of his life to a dreaded disease. I won’t be the last one.
Perhaps I can apply the experience I will have gathered from this journey to lend comfort to someone else who undergoes similar grief.
That’s not exactly a silver lining. It is my way, perhaps, of finding some positives to pull from my sadness.