My journey through the darkness has found sufficient light for me to declare that I believe it is nearing its end.

Does that mean the destination is near, that I have no more distance to travel before I can declare my life has been (more or less) restored since the passing of the only woman I’ve ever loved with all my heart?

It means only that I can see much more clearly these days, that I can profess openly that I am ready for a relationship if the right one were to present itself. I don’t mean to sound coy or cagey. I only mean to tell you the obvious, which is that my heart is likely to remain permanently damaged and that I am learning the complexities of dealing with the pain.

Kathy Anne’s brief but savage fight with glioblastoma at the beginning of this horrible year will remain with me for the rest of my life on Earth. She had six weeks from her diagnosis to the end. The oncologist who was scheduled to treat her called her form of cancer “the most aggressive” he ever has seen.

That was then. The here and now puts me in a position to start to move on, to commence with the rest of my life. My beautiful bride, Kathy Anne, was 71 when she passed. I am almost 74. She was in good health until, well, she wasn’t. I am in reasonably good health … at this moment. The events of this year have taught me the bitterest of lessons. One of them is that at my age, health can turn from blessing to curse in rapid fashion.

I am not going to sit around, awaiting the outcome I know awaits all of us. I intend to live, just as Kathy Anne insisted I do back when we both were young and had a long life ahead of us.

There will be more tales to tell about my journey as it progresses into the blinding light of the living. I’m not there yet.

But, damn … I believe it’s getting closer!