Today’s our 15th wedding anniversary. We’re celebrating it, more or less quietly, by going to dinner at one of the terrific restaurants here in town. I’m not exactly ready for a big blowout, considering I’m using a walker to get around at the moment (see the previous blog post to know more about my medical condition).
But that last post really brings forward parts of the wedding vows we took all those years ago. Dori has stood by me “…in sickness and in health.” Way more sickness than we had ever imagined at the time, I regret to say. It’s a debt of faithfulness I could never hope to repay.
Though this anniversary, perhaps being our last, is bittersweet, everyone should know what a great woman Dori is, and how much I love her. I hope to be back with another post like this next year.
In July 1994, Tom and I started dating.
In July 1995, he woke up one morning with severe chest pains. I called 911, an ambulance took him to the hospital, and it turned out that he was having a heart attack.
The following day, I showed up at his hospital room carrying two balloons: one that said “Get Well Soon!” and one that said “Happy Anniversary!”.
Or as I’ve told people: when I married him six years later, he’d already made it clear what I was getting health-wise. Sure, it hasn’t always been smooth sailing—some would say that neither of us is an especially easy person to live with. But whilst I’ve often wished Tom’s health was better, I’ve never for a moment thought his health was a reason for us to be apart.
I’m happy for the 22 years we’ve had together (7 years living in sin + 15 years of wedded bliss), and hope for as much time together as possible in the future.
Love ya, babe.