Tag Archives: Kathy Anne

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A year later, pain is manageable

I grappled with my heart over whether I wanted to post anything about a sad date that is about to visit my family and me.

I have decided to go ahead with an acknowledgment of the date and a declaration that I am looking toward a bright, adventurous future.

It was a year ago, Feb. 3, 2023, when my phone rang and the nurse at the other end of the call informed me that my beloved bride had just passed away. Cancer took Kathy Anne from my family and me. It was a savage, but brief, bout with glioblastoma.

You know about that. I won’t dwell on it here.

It’s been a remarkable year to say the very least. I have embarked on what I have described as a journey through darkness. I am quite happy to proclaim, though, that the light is shining much brighter today than it dared shine on the worst day of our lives.

I have made the trek, recovering from the intense pain one always feels when you suffer such a loss. I have sought to chronicle my journey on this blog. I have shared the highs and lows of the past year. It has been cathartic and therapeutic. It has given me emotional relief to share these experiences on this blog platform.

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Thus, I am glad to have done so, although to be sure, I would wish only that I never had to embark on that journey. But … I did. So did my family and we are counting the blessings of having each other to recall the joy we shared with my bride.

The future now awaits. I am embracing it fully and I have committed to living every single day going forward as if it is my final day on this good Earth.

My friends have told me the “pain will never disappear, but it will become manageable.” It has … and it won’t stop me from living the fullest life possible.

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Journey gets brighter

Many of you — those who follow this blog — know about the journey I have taken for the past year.

It started out painfully. It got better over time as I jumped into my pickup and — with Toby the Puppy riding shotgun — traveled to both coasts of this great nation.

We bid a good fu**ing riddance to 2023. My sons and I burned calendars in my back yard the evening of Dec. 31. I had just said so long to my puppy on Dec. 1, ending the year with nearly the pain I felt when I lost my bride, Kathy Anne, to cancer near the beginning of the year.

But now a new year has arrived. We’re three weeks into 2024 and I am happy — no, thrilled and delighted — to report that the pain has all but subsided. I have laid the foundation for a new life in North Texas.

I am committing to some worthwhile projects. I am socializing more. I vowed to find the light at the end of that dark journey and I am going to declare that the light is shining brightly on me. I hope it shines on my sons, my daughter-in-law and my granddaughter.

We have all been through a lot together. I hope they all know how indebted I am for the strength they have shown and demonstrated and I am hoping they have received some strength and encouragement from their old man. They know I love them with every beat of my heart.

My friends all have said that I always will have those moments when emotion takes control of my senses. I get it. Honestly, I truly do.

But I will be damned forever if I let it control me as I soldier on with the rest of my life.

I am looking forward to a year of adventure, I hope a surprise or three, and one that produces plenty of additional cherished memories.

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Good riddance, 2023!

We did what we wanted to do: we torched 2023 calendars, let ’em burn to ashes.

You know that 2023 was the worst year in our family’s life. You know, too, the reason why the now-former year is loathed by my family and me. What you see in the picture attached to this post is a calendar turned to February, the month our family agony began in earnest.

What I haven’t discussed on this blog is the reason for the calendar-burning.

The idea came from a long-time friend and former colleague. He made the suggestion believing it would cleanse my emotional reservoir. Hell, even the prospect of burning the calendars has given me relief from the anguish that lingered for almost the entirety of 2023.

I know it’s only a symbolic act. No symbolism will cure us of the pain we endured with the passing of my dear bride, Kathy Anne, the mother of my sons. The cure — and I use the term with an abundance of caution — will come chiefly from time.

But lighting the calendars is a start of a new year that I plan to insist is far better than the year we just ushered onto the trash heap.

Happy new year everyone. May it bring you all great joy. I intend to reap all the joy possible that 2024 brings to my family and me.

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Sending year out with a blaze

My sons and I are planning a laugh-out-loud party in about 24 hours when we bid good riddance to 2023.

Yes, it was the worst year of our lives. It got off to a tragic start in early February with the passing of Kathy Anne, my wife of 51 years and the mother of these two fine men.

But you know what? I do not intend to cry once we commence our brief commemoration. I intend fully to laugh and smile between the guffaws as we light a fire to signal the end of the year that is about to pass into the crapper.

Kathy Anne and I built a wonderful life together. It began when we both were in college. We were so very young, full of energy, passion (for each other) and a spirit of adventure. Our life took us from Oregon to Texas and then we traveled to 48 of our states and about 16 countries.

Then came the second tragic event to befall us. On Dec. 1 we bid farewell to Toby the Puppy, my best friend, companion and the sweetest pooch God ever created. His loss added a tragic symmetry to the year.

But … as the late George Harrison once sang: All things must pass. 

So, my sons and I are going to bid good riddance to 2023 by burning calendars chronicling the horrible year we all endured. We’ll stoke the flames in a fire pit in my backyard.

Then we’ll welcome the new year filled with hope for a better and brighter future.

Happy new year! May your 2024 be full of fun and joy, too.

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A different new year awaits

Normally, I am inclined to approach the end of a year with a shrug and an “I’ll take whatever comes next” attitude.

2023 has been, and please excuse the understatement, a radically different span of time for my family and me. We lost the rock of our family at the first of the year when cancer struck my dear bride, Kathy Anne. She passed away Feb. 3 and for the time in my entire life I was left to fend for myself. Yes, I have my sons, my daughter-in-law and my granddaughter nearby. I cherish them beyond all measure. However, I am on my own in many ways large and small.

I told someone close to me recently that I lived with my parents until my late teens; then I was inducted into the Army; I served two years under Uncle Sam’s watchful eye; I returned to Mom and Dad’s home; then I met a gorgeous girl in college; we got married shortly thereafter; we were husband and wife for 51 blissful years.

Then she was gone. Just like that. Do you get what I mean by “alone”?

I don’t usually make new year’s resolutions. This year is different. My new year’s resolution — and I am going to declare it here — will be to continue my search for happiness. I will make another declaration. It is that my path is considerably brighter today than it was for most of 2023. I don’t yet know where it will end for me.

I have been able during the months since I lost Kathy Anne to travel through much of the country. I embarked on trips to, as I noted, to “clear my head and mend my heart.” I am happy to report that my noggin is pretty clear as I write these words and my heart is enduring far fewer spasms of grief. I need to state, though, that Kathy Anne’s illness and passing wasn’t the end of my sorrow. On Dec. 1 I lost Toby the Puppy, my companion and best buddy, as he no longer could battle the cancer that ravaged his body.

I am gathering up all the paper calendars I have collected in my house in Princeton and on Dec. 31 I intend — per a suggestion from a friend — to conduct a 2023 calendar-burning event in my back yard. I might even yelp for joy as I watch the flames engulf the numbers “2023.”

When the flames subside and the embers cool in the fire pit, I will commence my journey forward. Kathy Anne insisted many years ago that I seek happiness were she to leave this Earth first. Therefore, I am following her directive.

Forward is the only path for me.

Here is to a much happier year ahead.

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Kitty steps up? You bet!

Most of us know that cats are a bit harder to read than dogs. Their personalities are more, um, hidden from human eyes.

However, I am going to presume something about one of my grandkitties that you might find implausible. Or … you might get it!

We lost Toby the Puppy on Dec. 1. Cancer had become too much for him, so we had to let him go.

For several months, my Princeton house has been occupied by two kitties, Marlowe and Macy, who moved in with my son when he relocated here from Amarillo shortly after my dear bride, Kathy Anne, passed away.

Marlowe and Macy made themselves at home quickly. They and Toby reached an understanding almost immediately … which was that this is Toby’s house and he was the boss.

Well, since I lost Toby, Marlowe has become my latest bunk mate. He sleeps with me almost every night. He often will snuggle with me, pressing his brutish body against mine as he gets comfortable.

I have difficulty reading Marlowe’s mind the way I could read Toby the Puppy’s mind. But I am going to conclude that he is feeling Toby’s loss as much as I am. He is reaching out to his “grandpa,” telling me it’s OK, that I have Marlowe and his sister, Macy, to give me comfort.

Is this possible? Well, since I cannot prove that it isn’t, I am going to presume the best about my grandkitty.

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No stress Christmas

Every year I make same pledge, which is that I refuse to get caught in the swirl of pressure associated with “getting ready” for Christmas.

I cannot remember when I first made the pledge. It doesn’t matter when. Just know that I did and every year since then I have been nominally successful.

This Christmas presents some unique challenges for me. It will be the first holiday in 52 years without Kathy Anne. We lost her on Feb. 3. We struggled through the year in various stages of grief. Then on Dec. 1 we got another punch in the gut when we lost Toby the Puppy. My puppy was far more than a pet; he was my traveling companion, my bunk mate, my best pal.

So … we’re dealing with that loss, too.

However, I want to stipulate that Christmas has arrived and I am proceeding as pledged. I won’t let the stress associated with the holiday overtake me. Indeed, I am actually enjoying the act of shopping for the holiday. As I write this blog item, I am essentially done shopping.

Today is Dec. 10. I am effectively done with two whole weeks to go before Santa arrives. I am going to be like the proverbial cool breeze from this day forward.

I am going to hug my family and my friends. I am going to relish the joy they have in welcoming the season.

Oh, I am going to have a calendar-burning event in my back yard on New Year’s Eve. The fire pit awaits. I don’t have many 2023 calendars laying around the house, but those I have found are doomed to become nothing more than ash as I bid good fu**ing riddance to the worst year of my life.

What lies ahead for 2024? New adventures, surprises that present themselves. It’s a new year that will allow me to move forward with optimism and joy.

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Getting ready for a burning

I have concluded that the only way I should bid farewell to the most horrible year of my life is to light a fire.

The idea comes, in fact, from a friend in Beaumont, Texas. I am going to heed his advice.

I intend to gather up every paper 2023 calendar I have in my Princeton, Texas, home. I then will place them in a fire pit I have in my back yard.

Then I am going to light them on fire. Burn them into ashes and embers. I want zero evidence of their presence in my home.

The year 2023 will be known in my house as the Year of the Broken Heart. It shattered into a million pieces on Feb. 3 when my dear bride, Kathy Anne, passed away from the savage effects of glioblastoma, an aggressive brain cancer.

It took some time to find my way out of the darkness, but I am essentially free of that pain. Most of the time. It still hurts on occasion, such as yesterday when I got weepy with my son talking about his Mom.

Then came the loss of Toby the Puppy on Dec. 1. He suffered cancer in various organs. He got too weak to continue the chemotherapy treatments. He had become a valued companion and buddy. We grieved together. My sons and I let him go and my heart broke all over again.

So … I now await the new year. 2024 will be a year of continuing recovery, but the journey is a lot brighter than when it began earlier in this most miserable year of my life.

And to my friend, Dan, who prompted me with this notion I offer a heartfelt thank you.

Fire in the hole!

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Hailing the holidays!

Let’s see now … what is Christmas going to be like around here after the year of heartache we’ve endured?

I believe it’s going to be OK. Not great in the way we used to celebrate the holiday season. But OK enough for us to set aside our sadness that an important person in our lives won’t be around to cheer the season with us.

My dear bride Kathy Anne was so wired for the holiday season. She embodied the Christmas version of the Looney Tunes’ character the Tasmanian Devil. She would seemingly whirl through the house decorating practically every blank counter-top, table top, window sill, and door jamb with religious and secular symbols of Christmas. It didn’t matter to Kathy Anne; if it symbolized any version of Christmas, it came out and was put on full display.

My bride invariably would apologize for “not being very creative.” I would snap, “nonsense!” She turned our home into a showcase.

I did not acquire that passion for Christmas when I married Kathy Anne in September 1971. I just went with the flow. Or, in this case, held on with both hands as she tore through her paces.

In her honor, though, I do intend to decorate my modest Princeton, Texas, home with at least part of the style to which we all became accustomed. I have decorated some outdoor shrubbery with lights. The tree is up, it is lit and it has a portion of the decorations we used to hang on it in previous years.

I believe Kathy Anne would be proud of the effort I have put into it so far. It won’t look quite the same as it did when she did the decorating. We’ll just have to settle for what I am able to do to welcome the holiday season.

I’ll be smiling all season long.

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Wishing for a quick end to ’23

Mom always advised me against “wishing my life away” by wanting a date to arrive sooner rather than later.

I am going to ignore Mom’s sage wisdom on one matter, in that I want this year to end as rapidly as possible. That means I will welcome the arrival of 2024 with ruffles and flourishes, perhaps even a whistle and a whoop.

The year 2023 has been one for the sh***er, at least in my house.

I have chronicled for you on this blog multiple tales of my journey through the darkness that began on Feb. 3, the day I lost my wife, Kathy Anne, to glioblastoma. I am happy to declare that my trek’s path is a lot brighter today than it was when it began. But the year has been nothing short of tragic for my family and me nevertheless.

Then, just this past Friday, I had to say farewell to the sweetest puppy God ever produced. Toby had contracted cancer this past summer and he fought it like hell until, well, he just ran out of strength. His doctor informed me that Toby’s quality of life had deteriorated beyond any hope for recovery. It was time to let him go. My sons and I did so.

My house today is eerily quiet without Toby the Puppy.

I always have followed Mom’s advice about wishing my life away. I have steered away, for instance, from phrases like “I can’t wait … “ for something to occur, remembering precisely what she told me. She knew life was too short to seek a quick arrival at the next destination. She was so very correct.

However, I am done with 2023. I want nothing more to do with this godforsaken span of time.

They’re going ban pots and pans on New Year’s Eve in my Princeton neighborhood. I might even join my neighbors in heralding the new year. More to the point, though, is that I will usher out the old one with relish and a hearty “good fu**ing riddance!”

Furthermore, while I am at it, I am likely to give 2023 what we used to call The Finger.