Page 63 - 06_July-Aug-2025

illustration COLTON PONTO
Love Letters
HOLDING
HANDS
Before Kathy’s final goodbye, she gave
me one final gift: clarity and courage to
live without her
by TIMOTHY FOWLER
KATHERINE JEAN, a month before God took you by
the hand, you took me by mine and tried to prepare me
for a life without you. After calling 911 the week prior,
I wasn’t expecting another conversation, but you are full
of surprises.
I was astonished just to find you fully dressed, that day
in March, stretched out on the couch in your room at
Cross Cancer Institute, fierce and warm as ever, waiting
for my arrival.
“Tim,” you said, “get a cup of coffee and come and sit,
we have a lot to talk about.”
It was a lot to take in: your great hair, your enchanting
eyes, your complete frankness, your sparkling clarity.
Despite being drenched in morphine, you were your com-
plete self. We looked at each other for what seemed a long
time, and you started to cry.
“I want my grandchildren to remember me,” you said.
You gave me instructions, making sure I
wrote them down. We agreed that I’d keep
driving your car for a while, so that when I
picked up the kids they would be in Grand-
ma Kate’s car. You asked me to clean up the
clutter.
We talked for four hours, held hands,
laughed, cried, and took inventory of what
we accomplished together in 45 years, the
crazy-good fun we had, the stack of mira-
cles we sit on. So many perfect days, and
yet I think that day in the hospital was the
best of my life.
I tried to put off cleaning and declutter-
ing, as you had asked, because it would be
too painful to sort through it all, but
eventually I went to work. Somehow you
knew that the first place I’d tackle was
your bedside table, where I uncovered a
stack of love letters, every one I ever
wrote you, including the Valentine’s Day
telegram I sent you from Australia in
1981. (You told me that was the day you
decided to marry me.) My Christmas
1982 letter, the first after our wedding,
when I told you “I appreciate your
willingness to try, try again, bend, work,
love, trust and care for me.” And here
you are, 43 years later, still trusting and
caring for me.
How long were you planning this?
Sweetie, you are the fiercest woman I have
ever known.
When I told you the next day that I
found the stack of love letters in your
nightstand, you smiled. “Thanks for
driving me and coming with me to all
those appointments,” you said. “Thanks
for making French onion soup. Thank
you for your help, Tim, thank you. This
has been so much easier with you holding
my hand.” ED.
This is a new series of essays by Edmontonians reflecting
on human connection. Pitch your little love story to
[email protected].
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