The investigation later determined the cause of the fire had been a pan full of grease sitting on a stove burner that had accidentally been left turned on in a first floor apartment.

I had gone to bed a few hours before the windows exploded. My first husband Bill, a county police officer at the time, was still awake watching TV.

Our dogs had gone to bed with me. Bill said they came padding out of the bedroom whining. He opened the sliding glass door to the balcony of our third floor apartment and leaned over the railing, looking for the cause of the dogs’ discontent.

It was at that moment the heat blew out the bottom floor windows.

Bill urgently shook me awake and, slipping a raincoat over my nightgown, I got the dogs leashed and out of the apartment while Bill and a neighbor pounded on doors making sure everyone got out safely.

The fire raced up through the floors, burned across the underside of the roof and down the other side of the building. Fortunately, no one was injured or died. Bill was proclaimed a hero.

I remember calling in to my boss the next morning to tell him about the fire and to say I would not be at work. Ridiculously enough, my boss asked WHY I wouldn’t be in. I burst into tears and wailed, “Because I don’t have any clothes!” We had lost everything except for the coats and jackets in the front closet which is why I still have my high school varsity cheerleading jacket. And in thinking about it now, I guess that’s why I’ve kept that jacket all these years…a reminder that I lived to tell the story.

You may find it odd that I’m writing about my ex-husband on Valentine’s Day. A few days ago, I found out he just died of cancer, so he’s been on my mind.

We had been high school sweethearts and eloped before I was 21. Bill was not the best husband. He found it difficult to stay committed to one woman. Through several years of many lies and betrayals and mental games in which I was always the loser, I knew I had to leave him to save myself. And so I did. He seemed surprised, as though he didn’t believe I had it in me.

We had remained cordial through the divorce, and he had occasionally stopped by my office while on patrol duty to say hello.

Two years later, he asked to see me at home. He had come to tell me how sorry he was for every hurtful thing he had said and done to me. I offered my immediate and full forgiveness and wished him a happy life. When we hugged a final goodbye, I swear I felt something in him break. From my upper story window, I watched him walk back to his car. He was wiping away tears as I was wiping away my own.

Bill is part of my story. His taking the law enforcement job in Maryland is what brought me to this area so that I would eventually meet my husband of 35 years and have the family and life I have today.

So I’m choosing to remember just the good memories of someone I once loved. And I do owe him my very life, after all. My varsity jacket is tangible proof.

To my readers: Think of someone you love or once loved who has hurt you. Even if he/she hasn’t asked for your mercy, choose to forgive them. Right now. Just say it aloud. “(Name), I forgive you.” That’s your Valentine’s Day present to the person and yourself.