Kathy Amos, born August 31st, 1947 in Cleveland, OH to Charles and Mary Lant, passed away suddenly in her home in the early hours of Monday morning, April 21st, 2025. She was seventy-seven years old, and leaves behind her husband, Ron, along with three children, two step-children, eight grandchildren, and fifteen great-grandchildren who all live within a day’s drive of town. Like her mother, Kathy was a superb cook. Just hours before she passed, she had cooked what everyone thought was an excellent dinner for Easter Sunday.
Spending a short time of her youth in Cleveland, her parents, Charles and Mary, brought Kathy with them when they moved to the Kansas City area in the middle part of this past century. She would go on to become a standout softball player who attracted interest from several colleges at the height of her powers. From there, she would become an excellent waitress and mother. She once waited on “The King,” Harley Race from the WWF.
Kathy was a remarkable woman. Us children called her Grandma.
When we were younger, she moved with her husband and a few other relatives to Mound City. Mound City had become home. She loved it up there, she said. Holidays were an important thing to Grandma. Halloween decorations went up on her side of the house in September, and she always had the most brilliant Christmas tree in Holt County, threw the best Christmas get-togethers as well. There always seemed to be something cooking in that house, a pot of that whole bean coffee she loved brewing, or they’d have a pumpkin patch growing out back by the shed. Her house reeked of candles, but in a good way. My grandmother was also the single best giver of gifts and presents that in all of my life I’ve ever seen, bar none. It isn’t close. This has been widely discussed. This is a race, mind you, that involves Santa Claus himself.
Grandma loved getting out when she was young. She was painfully funny, knew the cuss word dictionary as if she’d read it cover to cover. She loved watching TV and paying surprise visits to the houses of her loved ones. She was the best friend of many people. Her company was a pleasure. She was great to come to if you had an issue and needed an opinion, or even just an ear. We still love her and she doubtlessly still loves us, too. To say a word in past tense, like “loved,” implies that some irrevocable destruction has taken place which prevents further loving after a certain point, and it is the prevailing belief in this family that a love between human souls is a bond of such purity and such strength that not even death can stop it.
Rest in peace Grandma,
Until we get there
