How ironic, but also how fitting, that I found enlightenment in the environment where Charles Darwin had his epiphany — the symbolic persistence of life prevailing even under the harshest of conditions. My Galapagos Islands adventure fell within one month of a significant anniversary event that derailed my life. It also fell within one month of another recent life-changing moment.

On Sunday, June 22, 1997, at 4:01 p.m., I received a somewhat matter-of-fact phone call informing me that my husband, Stephen, suddenly died overseas at forty-three years old. He was President of a Moscow, Russia multi-national corporation subsidiary. In an instant, hopes and dreams vanished, and the vultures began to circle en masse. I was unprepared for the ensuing tempest that would paralyze my life for the next eight years. Within thirty-six hours of his passing, the unfolding events were surreal. I was a character in a Franz Kafka novel. Those associated with this event became more insidious with each passing hour.

I never had time to mourn my loss because shortly thereafter, on any given day, I was greeted with a parade of lawsuits. I was astounded by the horde of schemes designed to manipulate or swindle, bait and mock, without any regard for my loss. The harrowing legal process consumed my life and forced me to withdraw socially to face these challenges. From the beginning, however, I never wavered on principle and refused to cave into the nefarious mob that invaded my life. I would never settle, and I made a vow that “they” would never get my house, and certainly not my soul.

There were additional life-changing events in motion at this time. The grand opening of my business was scheduled for June 23. My advertisements were inserted, my promotional materials were ready for distribution, and my custom business van was to arrive in two weeks. I tabled all business plans – permanently. I was not employed and had to pay a mortgage, utility bills and property taxes for a large house.

I placed trust in a group of business associates, but less than forty-eight hours after my husband’s passing; I was presented with a grand lie on behalf of this group. This deception infuriated me, so I jumped into the legal fray as well and filed a complaint in my county court. The group retaliated and moved the matter to a federal district court. They bypassed their corporate counsel and retained one of the oldest and largest law firms in the United States. I was undoubtedly the David in the Goliath equation. The court hearings, however, presented a humorous and lopsided picture. The opposing counsel consisted of a large team of attorneys. They would enter the mammoth court room dressed in their Saville Row suits, armed with laptops and cases of paper. My sole attorney entered the courtroom armed with his Bic pen and legal pad. Guess who prevailed?

I devoted one year of full-time effort to data entry. I collected every possible business-related piece of paper and entered all information into inter-relational databases. After one year of this process, I compiled thirteen Microsoft Access databases. The next step was to develop a model of theoretical analysis in order to correlate the data within the databases. After a few months of theory building, analysis and cross-correlation, the results were profound. I had my trail of dirt and it did not lead to my late husband. I had an ironclad defense and could turn the tables on the nefarious mob. The problem, however, was that one of my two lead attorneys refused to implement this defense.

I retained two attorneys. My Virginia attorney, and to this day, one of my closest friends, remained loyal and fearless for the eight years of drama. On a slow legal week, we would meet three times per week. On a manic legal week, we would meet five to seven times per week. I also retained my late husband’s Washington, D.C. attorney. We did not get along. Because the largest lawsuit was filed in a Washington, D.C. court, I was forced to retain this attorney. Just before the pre-trial motion stage, I realized Mr. Washington D.C. was sending me up the proverbial river without a paddle by refusing to implement my preferred legal defense strategy. I would certainly lose and lose in a grand fashion. I terminated his services and went pro se. I do not recommend this option! I submitted my own motions and responses. I was on the brink of hysteria given the Sisyphusian motion process. I did not think it was possible to function on such little sleep. For weeks, I was only able to grab two to three hours of sleep per night due to the constant turnaround of court paper. I knew the opposition was trying to wear me down by attrition, but I refused to surrender and just sucked up the pain and plugged on. The motion process ended, and I was ready to take the next court step – trial.

For an instant, I thought I could represent myself in a trial but quickly realized that this was legal suicide. A few days before the court status conference hearing to establish the trial date, my Virginia attorney was admitted pro hoc vice into the Washington D.C. bar. Someone loyal and fearless would be at my side after all. On the eve of the status conference hearing, the mob withdrew their argument, stopped pursuing me and vanished almost as quickly as they swooped in for the attack. Why? My motions and responses hinted at my legal defense, so perhaps, this prompted the retreat. Who knows? I do not care anymore. Finally, after eight years, I had my life back…or so I thought.

Three months after the long legal battle, my father passed away and once again, I knew my life would take another dramatic turn and not be my own. I had to relocate my mother to my home. I do not have any siblings so I was the sole bearer of responsibility.

My mother was never independent and never understood my drive to be such. She never accepted my devotion to my job and did not comprehend that I was the sole breadwinner for the large house she now called home. My mother never recovered from my father’s passing and was always depressed and negative. I was never able to lift her spirits, and it was difficult to live with someone in this state. Nevertheless, I took care of her and once again inflicted self-imposed isolation to attend to her needs. It is hard to imagine, but wearing the caretaker hat for six years was often more difficult than dealing with the nefarious mob.

Being a caretaker takes its toll – physically and emotionally. The last year of her life was exceedingly difficult for me because she was showing signs of progressive dementia. I did not have the heart to put her in an assisted living facility even though I feared I would suffocate from the overwhelming, all-consuming responsibility as her caregiver. I knew, however, that I would have to face the difficult placement decision soon. My health was failing too. The mornings would greet me with terrible joint pain. Is this what “old” feels like? Each day was a struggle, and I did not think I would live for more than two years if my path did not change. People would actually agree with this assessment. I was told that I looked so ragged and tired and I would spout my usual mantra, “ I just wish I could have some peace. I haven’t had peace for fourteen years.”

On April 27 of this year, my mother passed away. Her passing was sudden and pain-free. I was with her in her final moments. There was a cherished moment of loving emotional connection prior to her passing. Ultimately, I am glad that I was able to keep my mother in my home until her final day, despite the difficulty. While she lived in my home for the past six years, I did the best I could for her. She was also searching for her peace, and I am sure she has it now. She passed away three weeks before my excursion to Galapagos.

The last trip I took that was more than five days, occurred in 1997 – three months after my husband’s passing. On somewhat of a whim, I flew to Milan, Italy, and thought I was going to Germany but found myself heading to Sardinia. I had a great time, but I knew that the long legal battle awaited my return; consequently, I was never able to fully relax and enjoy Sardinia. I did not travel anywhere for twelve years, and then in 2009, I took a few, actually quite a few, mini trips of two-five days to attend rock concerts with friends. This was very therapeutic and I also re-discovered my passion for photography during these excursions; but, again, I was never able to fully relax and enjoy the full experience.

Well into my tour of Galapagos, on a glorious evening on the Pacific Ocean, having pre-dinner cocktails on the bow of the National Geographic Endeavour, I marveled at the beauty surrounding me: the resplendent sunsets with rays of light beaming onto the beautiful islets; the rippling waves of the ocean; the magnificent aerial acrobatics of the exotic birds; and the genuine warm laughter, kindness and happiness of my fellow passengers and Nat Geo staff. All was right in the world, and I finally realized that the train wreck of fourteen years was indeed finally over. For the first time, I can enjoy something entirely without distractions or demands. I can pursue my plans and goals without hindrance. At this time, I also realized that without the harsh life-trial, I would not be present at this shining moment. I would not have embarked on the therapeutic escapes to live music events that led to my re-discovered love of photography, which led to my desire to photograph the beautiful animals of Galapagos. Finally, I was where I wanted to be in my life. In the land of Darwin, I realized that I survived the difficult years, and hope I became a better person because of it. Throughout the ordeal, I fought hard to avoid the cynical tendencies and not deny faith, hope or charity. I like to think that I am still as charitable, if not more than I was fourteen years ago. I still have hope, and faith is hanging around more often than not. There is strength in caring, past one’s own needs and wants. Empathy is strength and a quality worthy in any environment. The overdone phrase, survival of the fittest, is indeed appropriate. Survival was my achievement, but now I have to work on the “fittest” part and undo the physical damage. I am pleased to say that I have started the undo process. My long search for peace is over. I have it. Life is good. Happy Anniversary To Me!