A Widower's Christmas Wish

He’s finding peace this Christmas in those memories, six months after losing his beloved wife of 47 years, Kathy, to the devastating Alzheimer’s disease after a decade-long fight that faded her memory bit by bit. Theirs is a love story like no other—chapters written during the highest highs and valleys of despair after her diagnosis.

Their remarkable journey started as two kids in a cave. Craig was intrigued by Marvel Cave at Silver Dollar City but was too young to be a guide during his senior of high school in Hollister. So, he peddled popcorn on Town Square until his 18th birthday when he was old enough to give tours.

“I’ll never forget when I gave my first tour on May 5, 1974,” he smiles. “Two years later, I was asked to train a new guide. It was the beautiful blue-eyed beauty who would become my bride the following year.”

Craig was smitten. The park had been such a special place for the pair that they were married at The City’s Wilderness Church with a reception on the Gazebo on July 15, 1977.

“It was the perfect day. We crammed about 80 people in the church. There was no power in there at the time, so it was a super hot July day. But, that was the start of the most 47 wonderful years I could ever have dreamed.”

The newlyweds moved to Oklahoma in 1980 to teach school. Craig was a middle school math teacher and Kathy taught 3rd grade. During their 35 years of teaching, they’d still make occasional trips to The City they loved so much. They brought 30-40 groups of kids on field trips to the park through the years to show off their “home.”

In 2007, a series of medical scans shifted all their dreams with the dreaded diagnosis that would break their hearts and souls.

“Alzheimer’s,” he pauses. “What an unfair and cruel disease. As a husband, I knew what was coming. It’s like a long goodbye knowing I’d slowly lose her over a decade or more.”

The couple had a plan though. They’d make the most of every moment together. They traveled America visiting 49 states, soaking up sights and racking up miles while Kathy’s mind was still sharp. But, the hard truth of what was to come was always there, riding shotgun.

As the days passed since the diagnosis, Kathy's changes were slow but undeniable. She sometimes forgot where she placed things or struggled to recall names. The forgetfulness was frustrating for both of them, but Craig's worst part was seeing Kathy—once so vibrant and full of life—gradually retreat into herself.

In 2018, Craig asked his sweetheart where she wanted to retire—anywhere she wanted to go.

“She wanted to move back closer to the place we met, Marvel Cave. We bought a little piece of land in Reeds Spring as close to the park as we could get. We could hear the steam train from our porch. As her mind started to fade even more, the sound of the train whistle had a way of bringing her back to me.”

Those flashes of remembering were fleeting. Not long after moving back to the Ozarks, Kathy slowly went downhill. Soon, she no longer recognized him at all. He moved her to a memory loss facility in Springfield, Missouri, in 2022 and returned to teaching in Theodosia to free his mind. It was 110 miles roundtrip to teach each day, yet he still made the daily drive to Springfield to be with his love. During their visits, her eyes were mostly distant and her gaze unfocused.

“I just had to stay busy,” he says with a pause. “Still, every day, I’d go sit with her. It hurts to the core to see your wife like that. It was God’s will but not my will. As a Christian man, I would ask God for the wisdom and strength to follow through with what he needed from me. So, I’d stay with her and sit and talk even though she didn’t know me.”

Craig would bring her back to their special place to look at the Christmas lights long after she no longer recognized him.

“She’d sit and watch all the twinkling lights at Silver Dollar City. It’s like they brought her peace.”

Despite his unwavering faith, Craig still struggled to find his own peace as Kathy entered the late stages of her illness. There’s a moment between them that almost took his breath away. He wrote about it in this year’s Christmas letter to his family.

“We had just welcomed a new grandbaby name Leo,” he explains. “I went to visit Kathy and showed her the picture of the baby. The sparkle returned to her beautiful blue eyes for just a few seconds. She understood what I was telling her. Then, she was gone again.”

For Craig, every time he looked at Kathy, he saw past how the disease ravaged her mind.

“To me, she was always the beautiful girl I fell in love with all those years ago,” he quietly says. “I knew the end was near. I knew what was happening. She never knew something was wrong. There’s peaceful relief in that.”

The love of Craig’s life peacefully passed from this Earth six months ago. Craig returned to his sweet City to drive a parade float as he continues to grieve.

“In between parades, I go visit the Wilderness Church and talk to her. Sometimes, as I look out through the windows over the hills, I can see her right beside me. It was an honor to work here 50 years ago, and it’s an honor to work here now. Seeing crowds of smiling families makes me feel so special. My Christmas wish is for them to take time to appreciate and love each other. May we all live our lives to reflect the light of Christ.”

Outside his trips to the Wilderness Church, he also visits Kathy’s final resting place—a beautiful headstone adorned with a rendering of that very same church where they were married almost five decades ago.

“My Mary Katherine is all I ever wanted in this life,” he smiles. “I had 47 great years with her, but even 47 more could never be enough.”