Tag Archives: Kathy Anne

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Despair arrived … then vanished

Almost from the moment I began to shake myself loose from the intense pain I felt on the worst day of my life, I knew days like today would knock me back on my heels.

My worst day occurred on Feb. 3, when my beloved bride Kathy Anne was taken from us by an aggressive form of brain cancer. My journey since then has experienced its ups and downs; the good news is that the down periods are far less frequent these days as the light along my emotional trail gets brighter.

Then days like today arrive. This is Kathy Anne’s 72nd birthday. It’s the first such birthday without her. Those of you who have lost loved ones — and that includes just about every human being who’s ever lived — understand the difficulty of these “firsts.”

My sons and I went to the cemetery to pay our respects to her and to tell her we are doing OK. We miss her terribly. However, it is important for me to stipulate that Kathy Anne was a pragmatic woman. She dealt with reality often stoically. She wasn’t one to wallow in her own sorrow and didn’t like it when others did so.

She all but ordered me many years ago to get on with my life if she were to depart this good Earth before me. Like most husbands who enjoy successful marriages, I am doing what I was told to do. I have re-entered the world of social interaction. Therefore, I have reason to hope for many more brighter days and far fewer darker ones.

I believe today was about as dark as it is likely to get for me moving forward. My sons, my daughter-in-law and my granddaughter are suffering through their own pain as well. The good news is that we all know we are there for each other.

So … my journey continues. The pain that returned when I awoke this morning was expected. I was ready for it. I got through it.

What’s more, I am quite certain tomorrow will arrive with the sun shining brightly. I will enjoy the day. Kathy Anne would insist on it.

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Trek finds new traction

My bride once asked me — while we attended the 10-year reunion of my Portland, Ore., high school class — why I wasn’t reuniting with the female classmates gathered at a city park where we all met.

My answer to Kathy Anne: I was “painfully shy” as a teenager. I was uncomfortable talking to girls, I told her. Less than four years after graduating from high school, the sensational young woman whom I would marry broke me of my shyness … if you know what I mean.

I recently declared my intention to return to the world “social interaction” since losing my dear bride to cancer this past February. I am a lot more socially skilled than I was a teenager. I like talking to “girls” these days and if you’ll pardon my candor, I am pretty good at it.

I still get a bit jittery at the prospect of asking someone on a date. I still don’t always say the correct thing at precisely the correct moment.

I also realize something else. I am nearly 74 years of age. Thus, time is not my ally. I figure that if I am going to find someone with whom I want to spend copious amounts of time in my final years on Earth, I had better get busy.

Thus, my journey through the post-mortem grief of losing the love of my life is getting brighter seemingly each day. It isn’t quite so dark these days along the path I have been walking since I bid farewell to my beloved Kathy Anne.

My destination still is to be determined. As I shake off the shyness that inhibited me as a youth, I know I’ll find that place sooner rather than later.

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Is this ‘premature’? Umm, no

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A statement from a woman whose acquaintance I made recently kind of caught me off guard … until I took a moment to process it.

She wondered if I was being “premature” in my effort to restart my life after losing my bride, Kathy Anne, to cancer in February. “It hasn’t even been a year,” she said, alluding to those upcoming “firsts” one endures after losing a loved one. You know, first birthday, first Christmas, first New Year’s Eve, first wedding anniversary one should commemorate with the loved one by your side.

I answered her forthrightly. “I believe I am ready” to proceed with my life, I said. Why? Because Kathy Anne would have it no other way. She made her point to me abundantly clear once or twice when we both were in the peak of health. “I want you to find happiness,” she instructed me in a stern voice, in the event she preceded me to her Great Reward.

My marriage succeeded over the course of 51 years largely because I followed the rule most husbands must follow: I did what my wife told me to do.

Do not ever misconstrue this carved-in-stone fact, which is that no woman ever can replace the love of my life. If I am able to find a new partner, she will understand that fact. My sons, my daughter-in-law, my granddaughter all know that about me. They know that Kathy Anne always will be first in my heart.

The task for me emotionally always will be to deal with the pain that is certain to flare on occasion. It will happen without warning. Indeed, I am functioning quite well while performing this or that task.

There can be no doubt that Feb. 3, 2023 was the worst day of my life and the lives of my family members. It happened near the beginning of what has turned out to be the crappiest year of my life.

However, I do possess an eternal wellspring of optimism. The future, as they say, is for the living. I intend to live my life on my own terms, albeit while following the instruction of my darling Kathy Anne.

Happiness is out there for me. I intend to find it.

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Dating apps: cesspool

The world is full of heartwarming stories about people who meet via dating apps, they develop relationships and then live happily ever after.

I have told you about my return to the world of social interaction since I lost my dear bride to cancer at the start of this year. Kathy Anne insisted I find happiness, but she made her feelings known long before the advent of the Internet, let alone these dating apps that have grown so popular.

What she couldn’t possibly know is that many of them have become cesspools, breeding grounds for individuals looking for victims on which to prey. How do I know that? I was targeted by one of those predators. My sons were able to sleuth around and discovered her bag of tricks; I confronted her … and poof! — she was gone.

This is my way of saying that I am likely to continue a more traditional path on my journey back to social interaction. It’s a much safer bet to just go out and, um …. meet people! I have joined a church in McKinney. I am meeting plenty of folks through my daily travels along my still-boring life.

I think Kathy Anne most surely would approve of my decision. She didn’t trust the Internet more than most reasonable human beings. Indeed, she was implicitly skeptical of strangers until they could prove to her that they were the real deal. Me? I tend to see the best in people until they demonstrate their evil intent.

I have learned a lot about dating apps, however.  I have learned to steer away from those who present pictures of people who are far from the age of the person who posts them. I also have detected certain language constraints from those wishing to “chat away from here.”

Most importantly, there’s a certain sameness — “How’s your day going?” — to the way many of these so-called women introduce themselves. I say “so-called” because I do fear the prospect that they could be some toothless biker chick or worse … some hairy-backed knuckle dragger.

This single life is a new thing for me. I am learning my way. The good news? I have some great family help who has my back.

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Fall/winter ‘flora’ returns!

My memory at times fails me, particularly when I try to recall events in my life … such as when I began growing a fall/winter beard.

I started it again this year a few days before the start of autumn. The autumnal equinox came and went a few days ago and my beard already was in full — or nearly full — swing.

It will remain on my puss until the first day of spring, sometime in March.

I’ve been known to cheat on growing the thing and then shaving it off. My dear wife disliked it when I was late starting in the fall, and  she damn sure really didn’t like it when I shaved it off before the vernal equinox.

But she got over it and liked me just the same — with or without the facial flora. At least that’s what she told me.

It gets saltier each year I grow it, meaning it contains far more “salt’ than “pepper” these days.

The mustache? I started that thing when I was still in the Army. I believe it began sprouting in July 1970. I kept it for 10 years before I shaved it off in a fit of stupidity. I recall coming out of the bathroom sans ‘stashe. My sons took a look at me and started laughing. They never had seen Dad without facial hair. They kept laughing until two or three days later I decided “it’s coming back.”

Fifty-three years later, it’s still there, now accompanied by the beard that makes me proud.

As a former colleague and friend of mine, the late Claude Duncan, once told me: “You may have your share of shortcomings, but growing hair isn’t one of them.”

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Journey nearing its end

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!

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Expect the unexpected

Life can teach us lessons we never learn in a classroom, as I am discovering as I take baby steps toward re-entering the “dating” marketplace.

One of them is that today’s world of high-tech Internet manipulation bears no resemblance to the Dark Ages, which was the last time I was an active participant in the worldwide “dating game.”

A word to the wise, therefore, is in order: Do not take a single word of flattery that comes to you from someone you’ve never met seriously. Be cautious, be careful, be suspicious until you can ascertain whether the “contact” you have made is legit.

I posted an item on High Plains Blogger that declared my intention to return to the social world known as the “dating environment.” I am still heading on that portion of this journey I have been on since the passing of my dear bride, Kathy Anne, to cancer.

I have known a couple of things about myself all along. One is that I haven’t “dated” anyone — other than my wife — for more than 50 years. I’ll just say it out loud: I am rusty. I never was a “ladies man,” even when I was much younger and full of those juices that make young men take off in hot pursuit. Thus, I was painfully shy around women.

It’s a new world out there, I am learning. It is fraught with peril. Oh, for a simpler life … except that era is gone forever.

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Following bride’s advice

My late bride once informed me — and I don’t recall the precise time or even the context of the conversation — that she didn’t want me to grieve forever if she left this Earth before I did.

“I want you to be happy,” Kathy Anne told me with a note of sternness in her voice. “If you find someone, then you should pursue that relationship,” she added. My response was similar, but not identical. I believe I answered with, “I want the same for you sweetie, but to be honest the thought of you being ‘with’ another man would drive me out of my mind.”

Well, Kathy Anne did leave this world first. I believe I am ready, though, to follow her instruction about finding happiness.

This journey I’ve been on since the worst day of my life likely will never end. The journey has been dark and at times full of sadness. Until just recently. It has brightened a bit largely because my own head has cleared and I am able to actually think about where I want to be in, say, three to five years.

I do not intend to move from Princeton, Texas. This will remain my forever home, as it belonged to Kathy Anne and me and served to be our base of operations while we visited our granddaughter, her parents and while we traveled throughout this great big, gorgeous country of ours. I’m still able to all of that, although the travel plans have changed a bit; but I am making that work, too.

As for future companionship, well, I will let that play out in due course. I have advised my sons — and any young man willing to listen to this advice — against “looking for the girl of your dreams. She will just show up.” It happened to one of my sons, and it damn sure happened to me. My other son will find that individual, I am sure, one day.

So will I. Thus, I am declaring that I won’t resist the tug into a new relationship when it starts to pull. But whoever comes along will need to understand the nature of the huge hole that remains in my permanently damaged heart.

If she has taken steps along a journey of her own, I am certain that she’ll get it.

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Toby has ‘issues’

More than a few readers of this blog have inquired over the years about the pooch whose face you see here. He is Toby the Puppy and he is my constant companion.

Well … I have some news to report about my Puppy. He is going to undergo aggressive treatment for cancer. That’s all the bad news I have. I have plenty of good news to report regarding my furry pal.

The illness is contained in one spot. He is showing zero signs of discomfort. Toby the Puppy continues to exhibit a voracious appetite and his thirst is virtually unquenchable … meaning that he’s drinking a lot of water.

That’s all very good news, according to the board certified veterinary oncologist who saw him today.

What’s next will be determined in the next day or two. He’s going to get a CT scan. The doc asked me to take him back to spend the day so she and her staff can collect a generous urine sample.

I want to share this news with you only because so many readers of this blog have seemingly enjoyed reading about his travels with my bride and me. We have taken him all over this great land and through half of Canada. He’s seen all of it and enjoyed along with his parents.

We, of course, lost my bride — Kathy Anne — in February. Toby the Puppy has stepped up to fulfill the role that falls on those of his species. He has become this “man’s best friend.” 

The doctor isn’t making any promises on the treatment and whether it will rid him of the disease. She is optimistic, though, that the aggressive path she intends to pursue will produce positive results. “We absolutely can control this thing,” she told my son and me today.

And I have made it abundantly clear — several times, in fact — that I want her to deploy any method she feels is possible to control it and, hopefully, to get rid of it.

Toby the Puppy is a trooper of the first order. He is my champion.

 

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Next trek delayed

For those who have any sort of interest in my travels and my recovery from the passing of my beloved Kathy Anne, this brief blog post is for you.

I had planned on shoving off soon for points west with Toby the Puppy. That excursion has been delayed. Not by any sort of emotional meltdown on my part. No, it has to do with Toby the Puppy.

He needs a bit of medical attention. Toby has been suffering from a urinary tract infection that we cannot shake. He’s feeling fine. His appetite is good. He’s drinking lots of water. He’s full of vim and vigor.

In other words, he’s his usual hysterical self. Our veterinarian in Princeton, though, referred Toby to a diagnostic clinic in Plano. So … he checks in tomorrow for a through going-over. The clinic has the resources and the equipment required to look at him carefully.

We’re going to get to the root of this UTI, going to fix it.

Then … we’ll hit the road. That’s the latest.