I've been gone and have missed a bunch of press releases. My apologies. This one is late but merits reading.
Chris Kazanas lost her 18-month battle with cancer
yesterday at her home in north central Phoenix.
You may not be aware, but many of you know her husband,
John, from his familiar role as the security rep on the
visiting bench at Cardinal home games. John also is a
local professional baseball scout. He currently works
for the White Sox after serving in the same capacity
for the Oakland A's.
The family showed incredible bravery over the past
months by allowing the Arizona Republic into its home
to chronicle the family's ordeal. News of Chris'
passing is featured on the front page of the front
section of this morning's Republic. Besides the text
of the story, I've attached the link to the Republic in
case you care to read the earlier articles.
This is a tragic story in the life of a great guy and a
devoted family man and baseball professional. The
couple has four children.
Wake and funeral arrangements are included at the base
of the story.
================================
Mom loses struggle with cancer
Chris Kazanas' two-year struggle with cancer ended
Wednesday morning.
Connie Cone Sexton
The Arizona Republic
May. 15, 2003 12:00 AM
"She never gave in."
John Kazanas' voice is thick with emotion and he
doesn't fight to blink away his tears. He looks to the
friends and family members gathered in his living room.
They meet one another's eyes and share small smiles.
They are united in love and sorrow.
Just as they've always been.
For two years, they watched and prayed, cried and
hugged and clung to their faith as the woman who so
held their hearts battled a cancer that could not be
defeated. Their hearts broke and mended time and again
as hope was often crushed by the reality of a mounting
illness.
"She never gave in."
John repeats the words and reaches down to cradle the
hand of his wife, now motionless before him. The woman
whose bright smile and infectious laugh stole his heart
more than 25 years ago was gone.
Chris Kazanas, the wife of John, mother of Nick, Kevin,
Julie and Rachel, and passionate high school teacher to
hundreds of students, died Wednesday morning. She
slowly slipped away, her body failing to get enough
air. But Chris was calm in her last moments, holding to
her last wish to hear voices of love from her children.
Peace came for Chris a little before 9 a.m.
There had been no time for goodbyes. She was working
hard to breathe and could barely whisper.
Hours before she died, she said that she needed oxygen
and that she wanted to use drops that would help her
sleep.
Chris had known that her death could come at any time.
The continual progress of cancer had greatly weakened
her vertebrae, and the bones were destined to break.
Chris knew that her breathing then would become labored
until the end.
But no one really thought early Wednesday morning that
it would be her last day.
Julie, 10, and Rachel, 7, were sent off to school
Wednesday, and Kevin, 17, went off to high school but
came right back home. The girls also returned after
John realized things were more serious for Chris. There
was no time to bring Nick, 20, home from California.
As her breathing became shallower, John still held out
hope. "I reached for her pulse and kept saying 'Come on
back. Come on back.' I really thought it wasn't her
time."
But Chris quietly slipped away.
Her body became flush and then quickly sank, her last
breath still so startling to those around her.
They left her in the recliner in the living room where
she had slept from time to time. Wednesday morning her
glasses sat folded atop one of the last books she was
reading: a love story about George and Martha
Washington.
Those gathered around took their turns giving Chris a
kiss, a soft embrace.
"I can't believe she's really gone," Rachel said. "She
was my very good mother."
Julie nodded and hugged her sister.
Finally, it was time to make calls to those not in the
room.
Chris' parents were already there, having come into
town Tuesday.
As the morning hours passed, John made call after call
to both sides of their large family. As he spoke,
sometimes wandering around the house or finding solace
on his patio, the living room of their Phoenix home
began to fill.
Laughter mixed with sounds of crying. The family shared
stories of the life of Chris, from her childhood to her
arduous journey to stay alive just one more day.
The morning's pain was only heightened by the
realization that soon it would be time to say goodbye,
the last chance to touch Chris' face, hold her hand.
The funeral van had arrived. John gathered everyone
around Chris. Julie and Rachel began to weep. Kevin
stood close to his dad, gazing at his mother one more
time.
No one wanted to let her go. Especially not John, who
kept reaching out to touch Chris, yet again. For
months, he had carried her from her lounge chair to her
wheelchair, from the bed to her bath.
He always wanted to be the one who would lift Chris.
Not that he didn't trust anyone else. It was just
something he needed to do. Just as he needed to help
Chris from her chair as the funeral attendants came
into the room.
"Can I help lift her?" John asked.
The mortuary workers shook their heads. John's face
fell. It was over too quickly.
He didn't follow them outside. Instead, he watched
through the screen door. John was motionless as he
watched and waited for the van to leave. He turned his
head, tracking the van as it moved away, down the
street.
Minutes later, John went out to the front yard. He was
alone, looking down. His phone rang and he began yet
another series of conversations to share the news of
the morning. A rosary will be held at 7 p.m. Friday at
Whitney & Murphy Arcadia Funeral Home, 4800 E. Indian
School Road. A Mass will be held at 3:30 p.m. Saturday
at St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church, 4715 N. Central
Ave. In lieu of flowers, the Kazanas' Children
Scholarship Fund has been created. Account No. 47327 at
Tempe Schools Credit Union, (480) 967-9475.
Chris Kazanas lost her 18-month battle with cancer
yesterday at her home in north central Phoenix.
You may not be aware, but many of you know her husband,
John, from his familiar role as the security rep on the
visiting bench at Cardinal home games. John also is a
local professional baseball scout. He currently works
for the White Sox after serving in the same capacity
for the Oakland A's.
The family showed incredible bravery over the past
months by allowing the Arizona Republic into its home
to chronicle the family's ordeal. News of Chris'
passing is featured on the front page of the front
section of this morning's Republic. Besides the text
of the story, I've attached the link to the Republic in
case you care to read the earlier articles.
This is a tragic story in the life of a great guy and a
devoted family man and baseball professional. The
couple has four children.
Wake and funeral arrangements are included at the base
of the story.
================================
Mom loses struggle with cancer
Chris Kazanas' two-year struggle with cancer ended
Wednesday morning.
Connie Cone Sexton
The Arizona Republic
May. 15, 2003 12:00 AM
"She never gave in."
John Kazanas' voice is thick with emotion and he
doesn't fight to blink away his tears. He looks to the
friends and family members gathered in his living room.
They meet one another's eyes and share small smiles.
They are united in love and sorrow.
Just as they've always been.
For two years, they watched and prayed, cried and
hugged and clung to their faith as the woman who so
held their hearts battled a cancer that could not be
defeated. Their hearts broke and mended time and again
as hope was often crushed by the reality of a mounting
illness.
"She never gave in."
John repeats the words and reaches down to cradle the
hand of his wife, now motionless before him. The woman
whose bright smile and infectious laugh stole his heart
more than 25 years ago was gone.
Chris Kazanas, the wife of John, mother of Nick, Kevin,
Julie and Rachel, and passionate high school teacher to
hundreds of students, died Wednesday morning. She
slowly slipped away, her body failing to get enough
air. But Chris was calm in her last moments, holding to
her last wish to hear voices of love from her children.
Peace came for Chris a little before 9 a.m.
There had been no time for goodbyes. She was working
hard to breathe and could barely whisper.
Hours before she died, she said that she needed oxygen
and that she wanted to use drops that would help her
sleep.
Chris had known that her death could come at any time.
The continual progress of cancer had greatly weakened
her vertebrae, and the bones were destined to break.
Chris knew that her breathing then would become labored
until the end.
But no one really thought early Wednesday morning that
it would be her last day.
Julie, 10, and Rachel, 7, were sent off to school
Wednesday, and Kevin, 17, went off to high school but
came right back home. The girls also returned after
John realized things were more serious for Chris. There
was no time to bring Nick, 20, home from California.
As her breathing became shallower, John still held out
hope. "I reached for her pulse and kept saying 'Come on
back. Come on back.' I really thought it wasn't her
time."
But Chris quietly slipped away.
Her body became flush and then quickly sank, her last
breath still so startling to those around her.
They left her in the recliner in the living room where
she had slept from time to time. Wednesday morning her
glasses sat folded atop one of the last books she was
reading: a love story about George and Martha
Washington.
Those gathered around took their turns giving Chris a
kiss, a soft embrace.
"I can't believe she's really gone," Rachel said. "She
was my very good mother."
Julie nodded and hugged her sister.
Finally, it was time to make calls to those not in the
room.
Chris' parents were already there, having come into
town Tuesday.
As the morning hours passed, John made call after call
to both sides of their large family. As he spoke,
sometimes wandering around the house or finding solace
on his patio, the living room of their Phoenix home
began to fill.
Laughter mixed with sounds of crying. The family shared
stories of the life of Chris, from her childhood to her
arduous journey to stay alive just one more day.
The morning's pain was only heightened by the
realization that soon it would be time to say goodbye,
the last chance to touch Chris' face, hold her hand.
The funeral van had arrived. John gathered everyone
around Chris. Julie and Rachel began to weep. Kevin
stood close to his dad, gazing at his mother one more
time.
No one wanted to let her go. Especially not John, who
kept reaching out to touch Chris, yet again. For
months, he had carried her from her lounge chair to her
wheelchair, from the bed to her bath.
He always wanted to be the one who would lift Chris.
Not that he didn't trust anyone else. It was just
something he needed to do. Just as he needed to help
Chris from her chair as the funeral attendants came
into the room.
"Can I help lift her?" John asked.
The mortuary workers shook their heads. John's face
fell. It was over too quickly.
He didn't follow them outside. Instead, he watched
through the screen door. John was motionless as he
watched and waited for the van to leave. He turned his
head, tracking the van as it moved away, down the
street.
Minutes later, John went out to the front yard. He was
alone, looking down. His phone rang and he began yet
another series of conversations to share the news of
the morning. A rosary will be held at 7 p.m. Friday at
Whitney & Murphy Arcadia Funeral Home, 4800 E. Indian
School Road. A Mass will be held at 3:30 p.m. Saturday
at St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church, 4715 N. Central
Ave. In lieu of flowers, the Kazanas' Children
Scholarship Fund has been created. Account No. 47327 at
Tempe Schools Credit Union, (480) 967-9475.
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