Today marks the fourth anniversary of my husband Larry’s heart attack. It has become an annual event for us to reflect on the trauma that surrounded that day, as well as his successful recovery. Gratitude fills our hearts, knowing how lucky we were that his life was spared that awful Friday afternoon, just one day after Larry had lost his mother.
When I re-read the post I wrote just after Larry was released from the hospital, I am reminded of the sheer terror of those first hours. The weight of anxiety I carried lasted for weeks and months during and after his recovery. I suppose my yearly post on this anniversary is written, in part, out of superstition, but mostly to remind myself how grateful we both are to the professionals who pulled together to save Larry.
We have kept our relationship with the firefighters from Station 8 here in Mission Hills. Larry always marks the anniversary by dropping off a card of thanks and a Starbucks gift card. They always get a batch of my Scottish toffee during the December holidays as well and, sometimes, a gift on Larry’s birthday. Our need to remind these community heroes of just how special they remain to us feels so important.
As you can see, Larry is in good shape these days, and still plays tennis twice a week across the street from our house. I still have a little PTSD on Friday afternoons while he is playing, and tend to stay close to the house.
Today we are celebrating four precious years of recovery and renewed appreciation of our life together. We will be going to Jake’s in Del Mar for lunch, scene of our first date in 1996. Life is so rich – and we don’t want to waste a minute of it.