Tag Archives: Kathy Anne

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She would approve greatly

You know what just occurs to me? Of course you don’t, so I will tell you: It occurs to me that my bride would approve greatly of my desire to get out of the house and hit the road for an extended period of time.

Kathy Anne loved to travel. We embarked on many remarkable adventures pulling three recreational vehicles over the course of several years. We owned two fifth wheels and a smaller travel trailer before we decided this past fall we had enough fun with them.

She’s gone now, but I have decided to hit the road. I believe I will leave with her heartfelt blessing and perhaps a wish she were still here to enjoy the trip with me.

But … she is with me. She’ll always be with me.

I have known all along that whomever of us leaves this Earth first that the other one will carry memories of our life together wherever we go and whatever we do.

And we had a grand and joyous life that encompassed 51 wonderful years. We set foot in 48 of our 50 states. We traveled abroad to about a dozen countries. We walked among antiquities that pre-dated the birth of Jesus Christ; we toured part of the Holy Land; my bride, who couldn’t tolerate Asian food, came with me twice to Taiwan.

We saw about a dozen of our national parks, stood on mountain passes and peered far into the distance and drove many miles along three coasts: Pacific, Atlantic and Gulf.

We cruised on ships through the Caribbean, Alaska and Hawaii.

Yeah … she would approve of this journey I am about to take.

It gives me comfort knowing it.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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Manic planning sets in

My bride most certainly would agree with this description of myself: I tend to make all-too-detailed travel plans, rather than just sorta going with the flow.

I am planning an extended road trip out west, needing to get away for a while to process the loss I have suffered with Kathy Anne’s passing a month ago from cancer.

I now have every stop on my way out set up. I know the dates I plan to be at each location. I have made lodging arrangements along the way; I will be staying at RV park cabins, cheap motels and, of course, with family members who have offered to give Toby the Puppy and me a place to sleep.

Furthermore, I even have mapped out tentative plans for my return to North Texas, which at this moment appears to be one month after my departure for the Pacific Ocean.

I have put some friends on alert that I’ll be visiting them in West Texas. I have a family member who will put us up for a couple of nights in the Hill Country.

Then I will drive my pickup to my driveway in Princeton. I will unpack it. Sit down on the couch, take a deep breath … and then think about where and when I want to go next.

I am thinking about the Atlantic Ocean.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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A path to recovery?

Allow me this bit of unsolicited advice: If you have lost a cherished loved one, placing a picture of that person in a prominent place could be far less painful than you might believe.

The picture you see with this very brief post is of my dear bride, Kathy Anne. She collected angels for far longer than the 51 years of our marriage.

My sons and I decided to hang this portrait of her next to this partial collection of her angels.

We could not possibly have found a more appropriate place to put the picture — which my daughter-in-law snapped about a decade ago — than next to her cherished angels.

It gives me a tiny measure of comfort when I gaze at it. I didn’t believe it would … but it does.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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Wrestling with outreach effort

I am in the midst of trying to determine whether I should accept a fellow’s attempt to reach out to me in my time of intense grief and mourning.

You might wonder: Why? He means well. Give him a chance to provide some help.

My wife passed away a little more than a month ago. I have received dozens of cards, notes, expressions of love and support from loved ones, friends, even some strangers. Kathy Anne would be pleased beyond measure with the compassion that has been extended. I know she is watching over all this.

This fellow who reached out to me today is a member of the church I have been attending and which I plan to join officially in due course. He heads a group of men who have lost their wives. For the record, I am going to refuse to use the word — which I detest — that identifies such men.

I told him I would call him back. I will keep that promise.

However, I am not interested in sitting around with a group of men reminiscing about our lives with the women who made us whole. Nor am I interested in sharing with them the misery I am enduring. I am reading a book titled “It’s OK To Be Not OK,” written by Megan Devine. It’s an excellent book … and an easy read. She says that others who share their like-minded tragedy mean well when they offer advice on how to deal with grief, but it seldom provides much comfort.

If they want to socialize, fine. If they want to get together to talk about, oh, college football or share life experiences associated with our careers, I’m in.

I am just not certain I am ready for some form of a 12-step program aimed at ridding me of the grief I am feeling. It’s all too damn fresh in my mind and in my still-broken heart.

I’ll get back to you later when I make a final decision. Meantime, I have determined that writing about my dark journey on this blog gives me sufficient comfort from my intense loss.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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Needing to focus

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Focus is the name of my game these days as I continue my journey from the darkness of mourning the loss of my bride.

Therefore, I have taken aim at some projects around the house and, of course, on my upcoming trek out west to the Pacific Ocean. I am finding immediate relief from the intense pain that flares without warning.

Kathy Anne would insist I stay busy, that I get on with living. I intend to follow her edict, which she actually delivered to me in no uncertain terms many years ago.

I decided to hire a lawn care firm to help me with the grass. It was a job I usually did myself, but I took the plunge today and sought to get a little help from a landscaping pro. Hey, he’s going to lop off 50% off the first treatment. Can’t go wrong with that, you know?

But as I usually do when road trips loom, I have plotted out a course and an approximate itinerary for when I intend to arrive at stops along the way. Those arrival dates are subject to change, given that I have nothing but time on my hands when I hit the road.

All of this is my way of acknowledging what I have been advised to do by friends and family members: Get busy and stay busy … and keep my mind occupied.

Copy that.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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What happens next?

This retirement journey on which I embarked has taken an unexpected turn, as I am now traveling alone.

OK. Many of you know that already as I have written about my bride’s passing from brain cancer. Kathy Anne was my life partner for the past 51-plus years.

So … what’s next? Obviously, it is far too early to predict anything about where I am heading. I have the strongest support possible from my sons, my daughter-in-law, my granddaughter, my sisters and my bride’s brothers and their families. I also have many friends around the nation … and, yes, the world.

Some of my friends have endured the pain I am suffering at this moment. I will lean heavily on them and their “expertise” in losing a spouse.

I want to stipulate, though, something many of you might already have surmised. Kathy Anne was far more than just my spouse. She was the woman I longed to meet when she appeared before me all those years ago. The Presbyterian preacher who married us took us through a personality test and determined, based on the results he received, that we were “incompatible.”

Kathy Anne and I laughed out loud for decades at that preposterous notion. Indeed, our “incompatibility” outlasted his time as a clergyman; he quit the ministry not many years after declaring us to be “husband and wife.” But … I digress.

Now comes the retirement journey that will continue in some fashion. It won’t be the same — quite obviously — but it will go on.

Where it leads me remains the greatest unknown answer I ever have sought, or ever will seek. I intend to find it … wherever it is.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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News? What news?

So … I am sitting on the back patio in Princeton, Texas, with my sister and we’re chatting about the loss we have suffered and how our minds have been taken away from our usual “routine.”

“I realize I don’t miss the news,” Liz said. Which made me nod in agreement. We fancy ourselves as news junkies. Hey, I spent a career seeking to keep pace with breaking news. My sis has pursued other career paths, but her interest is deep as well.

I usually spend a good bit of time watching TV news channels and scouring various Internet sites for the news of the day.

However, our minds and hearts have been pulled away by grief over the passing of my bride, Kathy Anne.

But as I ponder the observation about “not missing the news,” I am struck by how little all these national and world events mean to me. Indeed, at this moment, they mean nothing at all.

The developing presidential campaign in 2024? The Ukraine War? Congress’s efforts to get organized? Debt ceiling?

Pffftt!

Honest to goodness, I truly don’t care — at this moment — about any damn bit of it!

Will it change? Yeah. Sure it will. It’s just going to take some time.

For now, I’ve got more important — and deeply personal — matters filling my noggin and my heart. And none of it has a thing to do with that thing called “the news.”

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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This tells the story of her life

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I want to post this video that we displayed Saturday at a memorial service that celebrated the life of my beloved bride, Kathy Anne.

It is a product of one of my sons, Nathan, who assembled the photos from a vast collection of prints taken over the span of my bride’s 71 years on this Earth.

It brings tears to my eyes, but I thought those who have been following this blog and my telling of my journey through the darkness of grief would like to see the moving tribute my son has put together.

I would say “enjoy,” but … well, you know.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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Now comes the hard part

It is done.

I have returned to my North Texas home after being showered with love, affection and sympathy aimed at my beloved bride, Kathy Anne, who we memorialized over the weekend among our church family members in Amarillo, Texas.

We called it a “celebration of life.” It lived up to its billing. Our friend, the Rev. Murray Gossett, sprinkled his remarks about Kathy Anne with plenty of humor, along with some fond remembrances he had of knowing her for more than two decades.

We laughed and we cried.

Now comes a more arduous journey through my grief at this terrible loss. I now must navigate my way through the rest of my own life. There won’t always be a large crowd of friends around. There will be moments when I am lonesome.

Yes, I will have my immediate family upon whom I can lean. Those who don’t live in North Texas are just a phone call away. However, only I can chart the path I intend to take the rest of the way.

However, for this moment, I am feeling a sense of relief that we have completed this joyful task of remembering the woman of my dreams, my partner who in January 1971 appeared before me like a vision at a college student union building.

We built a marvelous life together. We traveled to all but two of the 50 states of this country and a couple dozen nations around the world. We saw holy sites, historical sites, nature’s most splendid grandeur … and we did it while holding hands and proving daily that we truly were made for each other.

Those are what we celebrated this weekend. I am grateful for the memories I know will continue to remind me of Kathy Anne.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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Calm has settled in

AMARILLO, Texas — At this very moment I am feeling an odd sense of calm. Why? Because we have conducted a memorial service to celebrate the glorious life of the woman of my dreams.

Kathy Anne passed away about three weeks ago from an aggressive brain cancer. We buried her next to her mother in McKinney. Today we came back to where we lived for the longest stint of our married life and celebrated the joy she brought to those who knew and loved her.

Yes, there were moments of intense sadness. It gave way to laughter as the Rev. Murray Gossett — a longtime friend of ours — retold stories that illustrated her humility, her zest for life and her servant’s heart.

I came to see friends we met along the way during our time in Amarillo. They came to our service to honor her and to tell my family and me that we are not alone, that we have friends who love us and who share our intense sadness at Kathy Anne’s passing.

It is the love that consumed us today that, I believe, is the source of the calm I am feeling at this moment. It’s a remarkable feeling of warmth and that I do not want to lose.

Not … ever!

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com