Tag Archives: mourning

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Mind is clearing

RICHFIELD, Utah — Am I allowed to declare “mission accomplished” regarding this journey that is winding to a close?

I set out to clear my mind and to remove myself from the closeness of the tragedy that befell our family on Feb. 3 with the passing of my beloved bride, Kathy Anne, to the ravages of cancer.

I believe my mind is considerably clearer now than it was when I set out on March 15 for points west. I can think of my bride without welling up. Talking about her, though, remains a challenge, as my heart remains severely damaged. I am working on that, but I cannot predict when I’ll turn that corner.

My friends and family have told me not to rush it. I won’t. I might never be free of the tears. I accept that, too, given that we spent 52 years together, 51 of them as husband and wife.

I will miss Kathy Anne forever and beyond. However, I am going to declare that my noggin is much clearer today than it was when Toby the Puppy and I launched our journey.

I am ready to go home.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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Now for the return

MONITOR, Wash. — I am getting ready to make the turn and head for the house.

My return to North Texas will commence in a couple of days, after I visit with a couple of family members and we get caught up on what’s happening in our lives.

They know my story, as I have been chronicling it on this blog.

To be candid, I am ready to start the return to familiar haunts … not that those I have seen already aren’t plenty familiar to these 73-year-old eyes.

The constant rain that has fallen during my entire stay in the Pacific Northwest is maddeningly familiar to be sure. I grew up in Portland, where it seemingly drizzles forever and then some. Yes, I also saw old friends, five high school classmates, plenty of family, my godmother (who also is family, according to Orthodox Church tradition) and some old haunts.

But it’s time to make the trek back to Collin County. I’ll take a different route than the one that brought me to this place on the eastern slope of the Cascade Range.

What’s more, I am going to travel along some highways that I’ve never seen before. I trust that my late bride, Kathy Anne, will smile in approval as Toby the Puppy and I wind our way back to the house.

More family will greet us in the Texas Hill Country and some friends await us in West Texas.

This journey was intended for me to simply get away from the nearness of the event that broke my heart in early February. I will miss Kathy Anne forever and then some.

But I am ready to start assembling my life for the still-unknown journey that awaits.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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How am I doing? Umm … OK

PORTLAND — The question is inevitable as I make my way across the western United States and begin thinking about the return trip to my home in North Texas.

“How are you doing?” my friends and family members ask with the look of those who know the pain I am feeling.

My answer is truthful. “Oh … I’m OK.” They know I’m not really OK, but they understand the reason the shrug I give them and the look in my eyes.

But in truth, I actually am doing a bit better than just OK. It’s not a lot better, but it’s a little bit so.

I embarked on this venture to clear my head after my wife passed away suddenly in early February after getting a cancer diagnosis that knocked me for a loop … but which seemed in the moment to have been something Kathy Anne might have expected.

She was stoic and steadfast in her response to the doctor: “Let’s just get it out of there.”

I had to leave the house. So, I did. I am very close to the halfway point. Soon I’ll be turning my pickup around and heading toward the house.

My sense is that I’ll be able to walk into my Princeton home feeling a bit of emotional relief as a result of the time I have taken away.

To be sure, there are likely to be more of these ventures in my near and medium-term future. This one, though, has been fairly successful in that I have been able to accomplish much of what I intended when Toby the Puppy and I hit the road nearly two weeks ago.

I’ll get more of the “How are you doing?” questions along the way. Those who ask it will get the same answer I’ve been giving. I trust they’ll understand.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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Blog = journal

LA CENTER, Wash. — I have made a command decision on whether I am going to write a “journal” chronicling my progress out of the darkness after my bride’s tragic passing two months ago.

It is that I am writing it already. I have been doing so on this blog. I am doing so at this very moment.

My heart is still broken. It might be irreparably damaged. However, if the docs who treated Kathy Anne for the cancer that claimed her were unable to “control” the tumor, perhaps I can control the pain that tears at my ticker. I will seek to do that with this blog, although I assure you, I won’t write forever about this tragic event in my life.

For as long as I have something to offer, though, I will do so and High Plains Blogger will serve as a journal of sorts for me.

It’s helping me along the way as Toby the Puppy and I continue our lengthy journey.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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Live it to the fullest

PORTLAND, Ore. — One of the lessons I have gleaned from my journey out west in the wake of my bride’s passing from cancer has been something I’ve known all along.

However, it is being driven home to me as a stark reality. It is to live one’s life fully and to never, ever take for granted that you’ve got a lot of time left on this Earth.

Kathy Anne likely didn’t see the diagnosis coming when she received it on Dec. 26. We had hoped to buy her some time, that the treatment she was scheduled to receive could “control” the lesion sufficiently to give her a good quality of life.

It didn’t work out.

She was gone in six weeks. It was a stunning outcome to an event I didn’t believe was probable. Yes, it was possible and I suppose I knew it could end the way it did. I just didn’t expect it.

The journey through the Great American West will continue in due course after I finish visiting friends and family in and near the city of my birth. I believe, though, that I have reached one undeniable conclusion at the midway point of this journey.

It is that I am going to relish the sunrise every single morning I am able to do so. Every day will be an adventure. I might not verbalize it when I awake, but I will certainly realize it as each day unfolds.

That’s not a bad way to go as I keep taking these baby steps toward the light.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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A compliment? Yes, by all means!

EUGENE, Ore. — An extraordinary statement of affirmation came my way today from a reader of this blog. I want to share it with you.

Readers of High Plains Blogger know about the trek I have taken out west to get away from my house in North Texas in the wake of my bride’s passing away from cancer in early February. My intention has been to clear my head and to mend my shattered heart.

Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to receive the statement I got today from a gentleman I do not know well; indeed, he and I are only acquainted via social media. He wrote me to say that a friend of his just lost his wife of 45 years to cancer and he will recommend, in due course, that he take the same action I did … which is to get out of the house.

I am going to accept that statement as a compliment for the work I have produced on the road. I didn’t intend for it to be the kind of “therapy” that others might recommend.

However, I am growing ever so slowly away from the intense pain that still flares. It comes unexpectedly. It surprises me, even as I drive my truck while stroking Toby the Puppy as he sits on the passenger seat next to me.

Those fits are becoming a bit more manageable as I wend my way through the Great American West. Thus, my social media friend has recognized it and has indicated a desire to have his good friend follow the course I have blazed on my own journey out of the darkness.

I wish my friend’s friend well as he begins his own recovery.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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Journaling? Hmm … gotta ponder it

One of the bits of advice I have received from friends who have endured the loss of a loved one involves something I have resisted doing for as long as I have been writing professionally and publicly.

It deals with writing a journal. I have tried my hand at “journaling” and determined that — to put it simply — it just ain’t my thing.

My bride passed away suddenly of cancer in early February. I have been writing about my feelings concerning that shattering loss regularly through this blog. I hope I am not boring you with this, but it is serving as a balm for the pain that continues to tear at me. Many of you have gone through this already, so you know to what I am referring.

I keep thinking that blogging about it is tantamount to writing a journal. Maybe it is … in my mind and heart.

A dear friend suggested I write a journal and submit the entries in my own handwriting. There’s a “visceral quality” to expressing oneself in that fashion, he said, and it serves as more of a cleansing agent than typing entries onto a Word document.

I am going to ponder that for a little while. I’m on the road at the moment and will be winding my way back to North Texas soon. I have declared my intention for this journey to be to clear my head and start mending my heart.

My noggin is clearing a little each day. My heart still needs plenty of work.

I hope to decide soon whether I want to commence “journaling” as a way to start to mending my shattered heart. I will wait until the end of this journey. If I proceed, I won’t say a word here. I just thought you ought to know about this latest minor emotional tussle I am seeking to overcome.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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‘Brothers in grief’

LOS GATOS, Calif. — He was my best man when I got married more than 51 years ago and he is my best man at this very moment.

We met for lunch to talk about the old days and to share the pain we both feel at losing our brides … to cancer. Tim’s wife passed away about three years ago, four months after receiving her cancer diagnosis. My bride, Kathy Anne, passed away this past February, about six weeks after learning she had a tumor in her brain.

We talked to each other about our shared experiences and Tim, being the wise and erudite individual he is, shared with me some wisdom about I will carry with me farther along as I continue to cope with my own recovery.

It was this, boiled down to an essential message: Do not ever forget the life we had over the decades, but do not be fearful of finding a new life moving forward. He told me it will take a long before I cease crying at the thought of losing the love of my life; he says it still grips him hard. Tim and his wife were together for 42 years before they received the chilling news of her illness.

I get it. I intend to take it with me as I move on down the proverbial road of life. I am still sorting through where I want my life to lead me at this juncture. I told my friend that I feel “like the loneliest man on Earth.” He nodded in agreement and understanding. I also reminded him that I am buoyed by the knowledge that others, such as my best man, have gone through it, too.

They came out of it and, by God, so will I.

I needed to talk to my best man because you only have one of these individuals in your life and my “brother in grief” stepped up and delivered the wisdom I needed to hear.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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Therapy is taking hold

Every journey is an adventure of discovery, or at least one can hope the discovery occurs,

So it is with the trek I have taken with Toby the Puppy. We have ventured to California. We’re heading farther west to the Pacific Ocean in just a little while. I declared my intention for this trip to “clear my head and mend my heart.”

My noggin is clearing a little bit each day. The heart? It remains shattered by the loss of my bride, Kathy Anne. However, I am detecting a bit of mending is starting to close — just a tiny bit — some of the wounds that were inflicted on my ticker.

I spoke with one of my closest friends on Earth today; indeed, I intend to see him very soon. He lost his bride to cancer not many years ago, so he knows the nature of my suffering.

He said that “it’s good always to keep looking forward as you move on, but you’ll always glance at the rearview mirror as you keep moving.” Yes. I am doing a good bit of rearward glancing these days.

But I also am finding out that writing about this journey, as I am doing at this moment, does provide some relief from the pain — in the moment. Once I stop typing, well, then it comes back.

But it’s not hurting as much as it did in the immediate aftermath of the worst day of my life.

I only can conclude that the therapeutic nature of his trek is producing the desired effect. I will count that as a success.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com

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How about this discovery?

WILLIAMS, Ariz. — One of the more remarkable discoveries I have made on this journey I decided to take out west has kinda caught me by surprise.

It is that I do not miss keeping up with those political matters that seem to drive many Americans damn near to the nut house.

Ohhh, no. Most of my conscious thoughts these days involve my bride, who I lost to cancer this past month. Indeed, I think of her practically every waking minute of every day. But … I also seek to fill my days on this westward trek with sights I am seeing, those I have seen and those I will see.

Those of you who read this blog know that I have not forsaken all political commentary of late. I like to weigh in when events merit commentary on this venue. So, I do.

However, I do not look for topics on which to bloviate. If they present themselves, fine. I’ll weigh in.

My time instead is spent looking for joyous sights to see and looking forward to seeing more family and friends along the way.

I’ve only logged about 1,500 or so miles on the truck on this trip. I figure this journey could exceed 6,000 miles by the time I roll into my driveway in Collin County. Almost all of those miles and all that time will be spent enjoying the here and now.

Yes, Kathy Anne never is far from my thoughts and my heart. I am beginning to appreciate better the notion that (a) she would want me to enjoy myself and (b) she’s with me every step of the way.

You know what? I am beginning to draw comfort from it.

johnkanelis_92@hotmail.com