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Their faces were somber as they told me the news. "It's melanoma; he may have three months to live." In disbelief, I rambled on about our move to Florida where we wanted to live. They advised against it; Ronnie would need extra care and after all, I was 8 months pregnant.

On September first, our baby daughter was born; a perfect little pink bundle of life. On September 30, my husband who had just turned 28 on the 28th, was gone. Life stood still for the next year. I didn't think about the future nor the present. I lived in the memory of the love I had with Ronnie. I felt cheated. I blamed God for my situation; I stayed home a lot, and hated it when people came to visit and "goo-gooed" over the baby. I wanted my husband to take care of me! I was the one who needed extra care; no one had told me about despair and depression. I felt hopeless and unloved.

Finally, I returned to the world. I leaned on male friends to take me out; I didn't want to meet anyone new. I couldn't imagine someone wanting to take care of me and my daughter, someone else's baby. Two years after Ronnie died, I met a divorced man who had four children. He seemed perfect: his eyes were Carolina blue like my daughter's along with his blond hair. We made a great couple. I was in love again. We married that Christmas and moved to Mississippi. Within a year, I realized that this man had deep problems. My life became filled with fear and dread. Eventually he left us, and I filed for divorce. I had made a mistake! That issue in itself was hard to stomach. What had this done to my daughter! I vowed never to marry again.

The years passed and when my daughter was in the third grade, I ventured into romance once more. This time he was a Carolina boy with great building skills. He was cute and became my cowboy in blue jeans. He was a good father to my daughter. His family accepted us as if we were meant to be together. We married two years after we met. We lived in North Carolina in a large brick home with a swimming pool, fruit trees, great neighbors, and good jobs. But that is not the end of my story. After twelve years of marriage, my life changed course again. My Carolina boy became Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. After several close calls with death, I packed up and moved on. How could I ever trust someone again? How could I give my heart to someone again?

Years have passed and love came calling again. I'm old now and ready for a new kind of relationship. I've been married for five years now. Eventhough I lost at love through the death of a spouse at a young age, I learned to live my life day-to-day. Divorce shattered my future on two ocassions, but no one knows our future but God, so don't let anyone predict your failures/successes in life. Love whenever the chance presents itself. Marry with the expectation of "forever." Life is a series of lessons: learn from your mistakes and always take a chance on love.

Learn more about this author, Ann Palmieri.
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