A Walk in Our Woods
It’s been a little over a week since Ken passed, and I’m not going to lie to anyone, it’s awful. I thought the hardest thing was Ken’s diagnosis and watching him suffer. Being alone and losing your soul mate, the one who understands, loves and knows you the most is simply gut wrenching. You feel empty, like you can’t breathe and there is no escape.
I’ve started to walk around our neighborhood block and I feel like a character in Dante’s inferno walking in a circle of suffering. I’m trying to add routine to my life to help alleviate some of the pain. On a walk one morning I spotted a cottontail bunny and looked at the expansive sky to feel my breath again and try to garner a glimpse of happiness.
I finally walked alone for the first time into the woods where Ken and I walked daily, Deepdyne Woods. It was hard to see the places we were before, the benches we took a rest on and shared so much together. While it was difficult it was a necessity to both feel Ken again and to continue on.
Yoga was a very important part of our lives, in fact we used to practice daily. Ken was doing handstands and the wheel a few days before his first seizure. Today, I ventured back into our studio and when the teacher saw me, we hugged and I cried. I asked to sit in the back corner in case I needed a speedy exit. I made it through the class okay and the most beautiful part was trying to reconnect with my breath. We did pranayama breathing or alternate nostril breath, which is wonderful for anyone especially going through a stressful time. This increases parasympathetic activity and lowers systolic blood pressure as well as respiratory rate. We so often forget to breathe and be mindful and compassionate. I felt my heart opening doing fish pose laying with a bolster supporting my back. I’m glad that I’ve returned to what we both loved and will try to be grounded and stay true to my practice. At the beginning of the class they ask you to set an intention which mine was always for Ken to heal and for the tumor to go away. Now my intention is for Ken to be with me on my return journey to yoga and to be with me in our practice. I think this will be a very healing aspect on the journey to recovery.
Ken’s party is coming together and will be a celebration to honor his life and love…
Stay strong. I can’t imagine how tough this must be. Please know you are not alone in this. There are many people that are praying for you!
Tina, I have been following you two since January since my husband John was told he had glio blastoma stage 4. Sometimes it was hard to read what was going on with you because we were not doing that good. Since January 13th we have spent 94 days in the hospital with one problem after another. June 22nd, we too have no more pain. So when you talk about Being alone and losing your soul mate, the one who understands, loves and knows you the most is simply gut wrenching. You feel empty, like you can’t breathe and there is no escape. I UNDERSTAND!!!!!!! I am praying for you.
Our thoughts are with you daily. We too have never meant you or Ken in person but followed your journey as we are moving along ours. Thank you for taking the time and caring to continue to post – hoping knowing that others are
sharing and caring in spirit is of some comfort to you.
Thank you for the heartfelt update. I have to say that I cried when I saw the picture of your handsome husband. I can hear his voice in my head. Go easy with yourself Dear Tina. Walking in the woods is such a great idea, connecting with nature is always a good place to be. I can’t imagine what your broken heart must feel like, so I am holding you in my heart. Lots of Love, Lisa
Praying for you Tina
That you know the peace and comfort of the Lord surrounding you at this very difficult time.
Hi Tina. I’m so glad you are strong enough to post how you feel. I’m with you on this journey. I know how broken you are. There’s not a day go by without you thinking about what has happened. You will keep asking that question Why? Every day something or someone will bring back a memory and every day will be different. I just hope things will get easier as 5 months on I still feel the emptiness. My advise to you is keep busy it helps, some days will be more difficult than others, take all the support that is offered. Be strong. Xxxxxx
Thanks for your courage — it reminds me a lot of Kebo!
You wrote ‘I’ve started to walk around our neighborhood block and I feel like a character in Dante’s inferno walking in a circle of suffering’, the Inferno was the first volume of a trilogy. It is followed by Purgatorio and then Paradise. Keep walking. I pray that your suffering will soon end and be replaced by something of greater meaning.
– Mark Knockemus
My husband is on this journey since May 22 dx. I am trying to remain in a positive mindset and reading Ken’s blog gives me strength and insight into what could be down our road.
I am sorry for your loss.
Tina, although I never met you and Ken in person, I’ve followed Ken’s blog since my daughter was diagnosed a year ago May. I’m so sorry and there aren’t any words that I can write that will help. But, please know that Ken’s blog and your story have helped those of us now walking this same road. I keep you in my prayers daily and also thank you for the courage that it takes to keep putting one foot in front of the other during these extremely difficult days.
Tina – I’ve never met you or Ken but I wanted to let you know how sorry I am for your loss. I have been following this blog for a long time. I was really inspired by both of you and it was so special that you allowed all of us a glimpse into your lives. Thank you for that. It really was apparent from the blog how special a person Ken was. My father passed away after a long fight with GBM last June so this really hits home for me. Please know that there are a lot of people thinking and praying for you.
Hi Tina, I went to school with Ken in Gadsden. We were not buddies back then, but I connected with him on facebook several months ago. I feel fortunate to have been acquainted with him for that short time.
I am beyond words about the nature of and untimeliness of his death. You have never met me. But, I want you to know I wish you the best as you continue your journey of life.