Tag Archives: grief

local news

It’s OK to laugh while mourning?

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I continue to mourn the passing of my bride and I figure I will do so for a good while.

However, some bizarre thoughts coarse through my noggin as I seek to find my way toward a new normal life without my beloved Kathy Anne. One of them involves laughter.

I am 73 years of age. We were married for 51 years. That means she was a major part of my life for most of my time on this Earth.

There are moments when I laugh out loud at something I see, or when Toby the Puppy performs one of this pooch tricks, or when I watch someone tell a joke. I told a friend on a social media message that I feel strangely embarrassed when I laugh out loud. It’s weird, man.

There is no way I will wear black in public the way my grandmother did after my grandfather died in January 1950. Yiayia mourned Papou in a formal matter for the rest of her life, which ended on July 4, 1978.

However, I don’t want to feel oddly self-conscious when I chuckle at something. Those who have been through this level of grief perhaps know of what I am mentioning.

Hey, I’ll get through this, too.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

local news

Grief journey takes new turn

My journey through the darkness of grief continues … but I am happy to report that it appears to be moving into a new phase.

It’s undefined at this moment, but I am sensing comfort in the company of good friends.

I met two dear friends today. One of them is recovering from major back surgery. She is in rehab at a Frisco hospital. Her husband is there, too, sleeping on an uncomfortable couch in her room.

I made the drive from Princeton to see them. I was anxious to (a) get out of the house for a couple of hours and (b) to enjoy the company of these two delightful individuals.

During our visit, we found ourselves not dwelling on my sadness. Yes, there was a moment when I talked about my dear bride, Kathy Anne, and couldn’t continue through the tears.

The moment passed quickly and we resumed whatever it was we were discussing. Our chat turned to political matters in Amarillo, where they have relocated after living briefly in the Metroplex before deciding their roots on the Caprock were too deep to abandon.

We looked back at a number of issues that I had been following during my years as a journalist in Amarillo. They remain involved in the life of the community. We chatted about their son and his wife. We talked about my sons and their lives.

Our visit took many fascinating turns during the hour-plus I sat with my friends.

Why bring this up? Because the journey on which I have embarked since my bride’s passing on Feb. 3 has been mostly dark. I had found myself thinking mostly about her final days on this Earth. I also have discovered that I am able to share others’ joy, such as my friend’s recovery from back surgery and their return to the community that gave them their identities.

I am thinking less about myself, especially when I am in the company of others. That’s a big deal, man!

The journey will continue. I don’t expect it to be an easy path toward the light, but I am beginning to see some glimmers.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

local news

Writing becomes addiction

Discoveries of oneself come at the most astonishing moments. In my case, my latest discovery comes at a time of intense personal grief.

I have learned that writing this blog is therapeutic. It is cathartic. It gives me comfort.

My beloved bride passed away on Feb. 3. Writing about the event and the journey on which I have embarked since then has filled me with an intense desire to keep writing on this blog, which I created so many years ago. It is full of archived text and pictures. I look back on much I have posted and am, frankly, amazed at the volume of material I have launched into cyberspace.

My chronicles about political matters and public policy remain the focus of this blog. I intend to keep firing away at those who deserve a brickbat or three from me. I also intend to offer bouquets to those who deserve a good word — or three — again, from me. High Plains Blogger isn’t limited to just those matters. I also want to offer “slice of life” observations, which I have done since the blog’s beginning.

I will beg the indulgence of those who read this stuff, as I will continue to write about my journey through grief.  Why do so? Because I know in the depths of my soul that many others have traveled along this path before me. They can relate to the pain I am enduring. I want them to know I salute their courage as they have found their way out of the darkness.

Therefore, I can think of no better venue — at least for me — than to put words into my laptop and send it your way. It’s good for me to write them and I hope it is good for those who read them.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

local news

Turning a key corner

I had said in an earlier post I was going to back off my commentary over dealing with grief … but I now am going to renege on that statement with this brief post.

I want to declare to those who have been following my journey through the darkness after my darling bride’s passing from cancer that I am starting to turn a key emotional corner.

I am finding myself quite able to conduct business, to do certain tasks and — most importantly — to actually smile and laugh.

The only time I crack is when I talk about Kathy Anne, when I remember something about her, when I recall the love we shared, when I bring back memories of the glorious journey we took over the span of 51 years.

Indeed, I am welling up as I write those words.

However, I am sensing the start of a new normal for my life. I don’t yet know where it will lead me. I am confident, though, that I will find my way to the light. I am learning, too, to take it all one day at a time.

I have learned yet another valuable life lesson and something more about myself. It is that life must go on even as we deal with shocking, shattering loss. I am going through it to this moment and I am beginning to believe I can get through it.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

local news

One more grief update …

OK, gang. I am going to give you one more brief update on my struggle with grief before I move on to other topics — at least for a little while.

The loss of my beloved bride a little more than a week ago has prompted me to make at least one command decision as I begin the long trek toward daylight at the end of this dark path.

I will hit the road, probably sooner rather than later. Toby the Puppy and I are going to climb into our pickup truck and go somewhere, probably out west toward the Pacific Ocean.

I have family out there and I have friends who live along the way. I want to see them. But more importantly — and I know that’s hard to fathom — is that I want to vacate the house I shared with Kathy Anne for the past four years.

Why? Because I see her everywhere in this house. Her cabinets with angels. Her wall decorations. The pictures she put out of our sons and assorted family members. My bride’s fingerprints are all over this place.

They will be there when I return. I know that I will have to look at what she left behind when I walk through the door. I believe in my heart I will be able to take it all in better than I can at this moment.

Of course, and this goes without saying (but I’ll say it anyway), I never will cease remembering her and the life we shared for more than five decades.

We are going to have a memorial service on Feb. 25. That will occur in the church where we worshiped for two decades in Amarillo. I hope to see our many friends come to celebrate the joyful life my bride led and remember her as the faithful servant of God she was for her entire life.

After that? I’m on the road in search of that shining light.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

local news

Here is how we met

I have taken some measure of comfort sharing with you my heartache in the wake of my darling bride’s passing from brain cancer.

A member of my family, though, asked whether I would like to share some positive memories of Kathy Anne. He thought it would do me some good as I grapple with the grief that has shattered my heart and soul. So … I will do so.

We met in January 1971 in college. I had returned from two years in the Army the previous summer and re-enrolled in college to pursue studies in journalism. Then, it happened.

I was sitting in the student union one afternoon when I saw this girl across the way, playing pool with some friends. My very first thought when I saw her? Dang, I have to meet this girl.

As luck and fate would have it, we found ourselves sitting at a table a day or two later with a mutual acquaintance. He was carrying on about his work as a zookeeper or some work like that. This girl and I began winking and smirking at each other across the table as this dude kept spouting nonsense.

Well, he left the table. We sat there by ourselves. We started chatting and I mentioned to her that I would like to see her again. She agreed.

Fate intervened yet again the next day when her car battery croaked in the parking lot. She needed a ride home. I gave it to her. The next day I jump-started her car for her. Then, at some point later that hour, I leaned over to kiss her.

Ah, yes. The kiss. It was one for the ages!

The rest, as they say, is history. We dated for six months. I proposed marriage that summer as I slipped a ring on her finger. We got married in September 1971 and commenced our extraordinary life together for the next 51 years.

I want to share this story as my proof of what I have preached ever since, which is that men should not look for the girl of their dreams; she will just show up. It happened to me … and I believe it happened to her, as well.

That memory is etched forever in my heart.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

local news

Learning to deal with grief

Grief takes many forms and it produces myriad responses to the thought that your loved one is no longer by your side.

I have mentioned to you before that I discovered much about myself when my bride and I moved from the comfort of our surroundings in Oregon many years ago to advance my career in Texas. I learned how adaptable I am.

My adaptability is undergoing the sternest test imaginable these days. It has been less than a week since cancer took my beloved bride from me. The savagery of the disease caught everyone by surprise. We had hope for a positive outcome, and I expressed that hope here.

Then tragedy struck with a shocking vengeance on Jan. 26 when my wife suffered a grand mal seizure, from which she did not recover.

A new life has commenced for me. I am still struggling, to be sure, with the knowledge that she’s gone. I see her everywhere in my North Texas home. Her presence, while she’s not here in person, remains in every room.

We are going to lay her to rest soon. Then we will travel to where she and I carved out a great life in the Texas Panhandle to celebrate my bride’s glorious life.

Meanwhile, my personal learning curve continues to present challenges I never have experienced. Still, I am hopeful that the self-discovery I made in 1984 when we settled in Beaumont after living my entire life in the Pacific Northwest will evolve into this new form of adaptability.

I believe I am up for the challenge that awaits … but it won’t be without intense pain. Of that I am utterly certain.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

local news

Memories serve as salve

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I just discovered something about the grief I am enduring at this moment … which is that recalling memories of the loved one I just lost serves as a salve for the pain that continues to cut deeply into my heart.

Many of you know already that I lost my bride this past Friday to cancer. The diagnosis came the day after Christmas. Then she was gone.

My sons and I are planning a service soon here in North Texas. One of them joined me in meeting with the pastor who will officiate at Kathy Anne’s graveside service. The Rev. Mally Baum — who my bride and I only recently got to know when we began attending the church where Mally serves — asked me questions about my bride.

She wanted to know more about her life journey and about her faith journey. My son and I shared much with her. We laughed out loud at some of the goofy things my wife would say. We shared her story, talked about her upbringing, I recalled the day she appeared before me at the college we both attended, about our story together and how we insisted on holding hands when we walked together.

Remembering those things brings comfort to me and to my sons.

Is it pain free? Of course not! I still well up … easily, in fact. Then it passes.

My friends tell me the grief will not subside quickly. They remind, though, that it will eventually. I believe Joe Biden’s wisdom when he has told Americans that the tears we shed when we think of lost loved ones will give way to smiles and laughter.

It’s happening to me now. albeit in teeny, tiny increments.

Grief, indeed, can teach us much about ourselves. I am learning about myself in real time.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

medical news

No one is alone

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Those who have been following my recent journey through a medical challenge, through anxiety and now through grief will understand what I am about to write on this blog post.

It is that the passing of my dear bride, Kathy Anne, to cancer has shattered my heart into a million pieces. Maybe more. The diagnosis of malignant brain cancer came on Dec. 26 and her struggle ended just this past Friday.

We had reason to hope for a positive outcome. Then it became, well, tragic.

What I am learning through my grief is something that I have known intellectually for as long as I have been able to process such things. Which is that I am far from the only person who has lost someone so dear to me to a merciless killer such as cancer.

We started our life together more than 51 years ago. We chose each other to be our partners in life through every peak and valley that our life would confront. We aren’t the first couple to make that pledge. We won’t be the last.

I have to remind myself of that undeniable fact as I grapple with my own grief. I have to tell myself — and I have been doing so frequently in the past 48 or so hours — that I am truly not alone in this struggle.

As near as I can tell, that means this level of grief and sorrow has been with humankind since the very beginning … of time.

My word of advice, therefore, to others who will endure the heartache I am feeling at this moment is that you, too, should keep in mind that if others can get through this unbearable pain, then so can you.

My pain endures, but so will I eventually find the light at the end of this dark journey.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

local news

Love keeps pouring in

It is impossible to convey the feeling one gets at a time of intense emotional grief when those with whom he is related, or those who he calls friends, or even those he knows only casually reach out to express their support.

The love that comes to my sons and me at this time in the wake of my dear bride’s passing has been overpowering.

I awoke this morning dreading the day that awaited, as it marked the first full day I would be without my beloved Kathy Anne nearby. It got better once the sun rose and once my son and I completed some tasks that needed to be done.

Still, I find myself tearing up at the mention of things that made my bride smile. Or when I am asked the date of our marriage. Or when I learn of my granddaughter’s intention to give something for Grandma to take with her when we say goodbye in a few days.

I know those spells will pass. I cannot — and I dare not — predict when that will occur. I just know that they will and I will know when that moment has arrived.

This blog post is intended for those who have expressed their love and support. It is meant as one more thank you from me and from those who are sharing this grief.

I do not intend to bore you with further expressions of thanks and gratitude. Indeed, I am running out of ways to say it.

So, I’ll just feel it in my heart.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com