By Mike Pound

Globe columnist

When the doors close for the last time, Kris Paapanen probably won’t dwell much on the physical memories of the KAPstone House. Instead, she’ll think about the spiritual aspect of the building.

Kris will look at what happened over the past four years and not where it happened.

“I’ll probably think about all the ‘aha’ moments,” she said.

She will tell you that there were a lot of “aha” moments at the KAPstone House, a grieving center for people who have lost loved ones that she founded in 2004. The first three letters — K-A-P — in the center’s name are the initials of Kris’ sister, Kimberly Anne Paapanen, who died in September 2000.

Originally designed as a center for grieving children, teens and their parents, the KAPstone House eventually grew into a place where just about anyone dealing with the loss of a loved one could go to find comfort. In most cases, the comfort came from meeting and talking to people who also were dealing with grief.

The KAPstone House was a place where people could gather and try to make sense out of loss. A place where people could feel free to grieve, where they could learn to grieve and where they could learn that it was OK to be angry.

It was that acceptance of anger that formed one of Kris’ favorite “aha” moments.

She was talking to a group of children sitting in a circle. One of the kids — a girl about 8 or 9 years old — was dealing with the death of her father. During the discussion, Kris asked the young girl if she was angry. The girl shook her head. Kris then asked if the girl thought it was possible to be angry at a situation and not at a person. Kris told the girl that she knew she wasn’t angry at her father, but she wondered if it was possible that the girl was angry at the situation of losing her father. The girl thought about that for a minute, and Kris said she slowly started to nod her head. It finally dawned on the little girl that she was angry and, more importantly, that it was OK to be angry. It was, Kris said, a vital part of the girl’s efforts to come to grips with the loss of her father.

That’s the sort of work that has gone on at the KAPstone House.

At the end of this month, Kris will close the doors to the KAPstone House, 2004 S. Joplin Ave., for the last time. The KAPstone House has always depended on donations to keep its doors open. After four years of struggling to meet monthly rent and utility bills, Kris is calling it quits.

Well, that’s not true. As Kris likes to say, the physical doors of the KAPstone House are closing, but the spiritual side — the most important side — of the house will remain open. For one thing, Kris plans to keep the Web site www.kapstonehouse.org up and running. And later, when Kris has time to catch a breath, she will begin looking for a location where people can get together occasionally.

“We’re closing the doors for now, but we’re not closing the KAPstone House,” Kris said. “I couldn’t close it even if I wanted to. You can’t close something that is in your heart.”

As a way of thanking the countless folks who volunteered over the years at the KAPstone House and to give people one last time to walk through the building, Kris is having a closing ceremony and reception on Tuesday, Jan. 29. The doors will open at 5 p.m., and the ceremony will start at 6:30 p.m.

Kris told me that she’s not comfortable with the term “closing ceremony.” And although she can’t imagine the warm and cozy building that has been the home of the KAPstone House ever being empty, she has no intention of dwelling on the past. She’s too much of a “live for the moment” type of person.

The KAPstone House, Kris said, will go on. Its form may change, but the dream and the mission that guided the place will go on. Grief doesn’t go away, Kris said. And neither will the KAPstone House.

Next week’s ceremony will be a chance, she said, for people to honor and reflect on the special moments — good and bad — they experienced there

It will be a chance to take part in the closing of one set of doors and perhaps the opening of another.