Life Gives No Guarantees
“I survived the massacre in Guyana and went on to marry an emergency-room physician. I was also elected to serve in the California legislature. We had our first child and life was turning out to be just as I had dreamed. We tried for more children, but after two miscarriages, a failed adoption, and fertility treatments, Steve and I decided to give up on our dream of another child. I launched a statewide campaign to become California's Secretary of State. Miraculously, three months later, I found myself pregnant in what doctors termed a high-risk pregnancy. I promptly withdrew from the campaign to focus on the health of our unborn child.
“On a rainy January day, three months into my pregnancy, I was en route to Sacramento when my secretary tracked me down to tell me that Steve had been in a car accident. I immediately phoned the emergency room and talked with the attending physician. I could tell by his voice that my husband's injuries were severe and I was an hour away. As I rushed back to the hospital, I feared the worst.
“Once I arrived, it seemed like hours before they would let me see Steve. When I finally got to see him in the ICU, he had a shunt in his head and was on a respirator. His body was warm, but the machines indicated he had no brain function. I kissed him. I held him. I told him I loved him, even though I knew he couldn't hear me. I couldn't believe that yet another nightmare was unfolding in front of me.
“I later learned that an uninsured driver with faulty brakes had careened through a stop sign, broadsiding Steve's car. His carelessness killed a talented, caring, vital man. I was now a pregnant widow with a young son.
“The loss of my husband was traumatic. I no longer even wanted to get out of bed. Yet, I really had no choice. I was the sole supporter of two children, one yet unborn. Steve had no life insurance, so his death was both an emotional and a financial disaster. I had to sell everything, including my home. I spent the next eight years as a single mother raising two children.
“Today, many years later, I am fortunate to live with great joy and happiness. I am married to a wonderful man, Barry Dennis, whom I met on a blind date. He was a confirmed bachelor, yet, five months later, we were engaged! My children are now happy, well-adjusted, and healthy adults.
“I want women to remember that, when life leaves them alone on the tarmac—whether it be the devastating loss of a loved one, the shattering of a lifelong dream, the loss of a job, or events that turn the world upside down—they can always learn to walk again. I am living proof that women can reinvent and rebuild their lives, no matter what hardships they have faced.”
4
WHEN LIFE IS NOT WHAT YOU ORDERED, BEGIN AGAIN.
One of the hardest things you will ever have to do, my dear, is to grieve the loss of a person who is still alive.
ANONYMOUS
Death and Divorce
“It's been twenty-three years since my husband, John Zimmerman, died of Stage 4 glioblastoma, the most aggressive type of brain cancer,” says Jan Yanehiro.
“He was forty-six; I was forty-seven. We had been married for twenty-two years. Our children were twelve, ten, and six years old when we lost him. I'm pleased to say that the children grew up to be fabulous adults and I am still working (and loving it) at seventy.
“And for the record, yes, I think about John—often. I miss him especially when I realize how many special moments he missed in our children's lives—driver's licenses, prom dates, acting in school plays, attending swim meets and Lacrosse games, summer jobs, high school graduations, college graduations, post-college jobs, and our daughter's wedding. Tears spring to my eyes in unexpected moments—moments like right now as I write this.
“Two and a half years after John died, I remarried. The marriage lasted ten years and ended in divorce. Someone once asked me which was harder, to lose a husband to death or divorce? Without hesitation, I answered: Divorce! Okay, maybe without the exclamation point, but divorce was harder.
“Death is final. There's nothing you can do about it. John didn't want to die. He felt sure he was going to beat brain cancer. He didn't. Divorce is hurtful, scathing, and full of betrayal. That betrayal cuts so deep that, even ten years later, I am only beginning to feel that the wounds are less deep. I think that means that I'm healing. One curious person asked me why I had gotten a divorce. My answer was simple: He cheated on me.
“If I sound so firm, so sure, so clear as I write about this now, I wasn't then. It took me years (and years) to process the divorce. I am still embarrassed to say I am divorced! I find it hard even to admit who filed for divorce. He did. I feel like such a wimp that I didn't do it first.
“It's been eleven years since I moved out of our home—a move I made against everyone's best advice, including my divorce attorney. My ex-husband filed for divorce and moved into the guesthouse. Each day, each night, each week, I was a mess and my self-esteem hit rock bottom. Jackie told me I was acting like an emotionally abused wife. Of course, I denied it. Me? No, not me. I had a career in television; I had three children and three stepchildren. I was on a corporate board. Abused?
“The short answer is yes, I was. To be clear, there was no physical abuse. But emotional abuse? Yes. When I got an email from my ex, I felt nauseous and was scared even to open it. I could feel my heart pounding when I did. What does he want now? What is his new demand? Arbitration? Settlement? How did I fail this marriage? When your self-esteem slips to below zero, it's amazing what a simple email can do to you.
“It's been nine years since my divorce became final. It took me two years to get the divorce, and it cost me $250,000. (I didn't have that kind of money, so I borrowed it.) And I wasn't even asking for alimony. We had signed a post-nuptial agreement about a year before the divorce because he claimed he wanted to protect his company. Foolishly, I signed. During the divorce, his attorney brought up that business was bad for the company and my ex was actually contemplating asking me for alimony!
“A year ago, I paid off all the borrowed money for my divorce to attorneys, mediators, accountants, and real estate appraisers. In the end, I just wanted to be done! Done with all the hurt, uncertainty, and anger. A good family friend, Larry Howell, gave me great advice: ‘If you want it to be done, you make it be done.’
“Did I leave money on the table? Probably. Do I feel everything was fair? No. What did I get? I got half of the value of the home I had invested in. But I reached the point where I could say to myself: I feel pretty darn good! Finally. On most days, I feel like the happiest single woman in all of San Francisco! I turned seventy years wiser. I can't say seventy years old, because I don't feel old. I mean, not old like we thought we would be . . . wrinkled, gray, bent over, wobbly, babbling souls. Sure, I have wrinkles and I am gray. However, my hairdresser makes sure I return to my ‘natural born’ color every five weeks!
“I feel I am just hitting my stride! Gosh, it feels good to say it and to feel it as well. My three children are all grown up. And I'm mighty proud to be their mother. On the morning John died, I made two promises. I promised John that I would make sure our children grew up happy, got an education, and lived their lives. And I promised myself that my children would not use the death of their father as an excuse for anything in their lives.
“My first-born, Jaclyn Mariko Zimmerman, is thirty-six, living and thriving in Berlin, Germany. Jaclyn is one of the bravest women I know. She lives fearlessly in a foreign land and creates her own job opportunities. Full speed ahead for my first-born!
Jenna Reiko Zimmerman is thirty-four years old. After ten years in New York City producing shows for the Food Network—she worked on seven Emmy-nominated