The Urgent Life

The Urgent Life Plot Summary

Introduction

Bozoma Saint John's life is a testament to the power of resilience in the face of profound loss. Her journey from a young girl born to Ghanaian immigrants to becoming one of the most influential marketing executives in America is remarkable not only for her professional achievements but for how she navigated the deepest sorrows imaginable. From the suicide of her college boyfriend to the heartbreaking loss of her newborn daughter and later, her husband's battle with cancer, Saint John has experienced the kind of pain that might have broken many others. Yet through it all, she discovered an approach to living that she calls "the urgent life" – embracing each moment with full presence and intention. What makes Saint John's story so compelling is her unflinching honesty about both her triumphs and her struggles. As a Black woman in predominantly white corporate spaces, she brought her authentic self to environments where she often stood out. Her career trajectory – from Spike Lee's advertising agency to executive positions at Pepsi, Apple, Uber, Endeavor, and Netflix – parallels her personal evolution. Throughout her narrative, we witness how Saint John learned to live with urgency rather than recklessness, how she discovered the difference between grief and gratitude, and ultimately how she found the courage to rebuild her life after unimaginable loss. Her story teaches us about the transformative power of love, the strength that can emerge from our darkest moments, and the importance of embracing life's width, not just its length.

Chapter 1: The Beginning and the End: First Encounters with Mortality

Bozoma Saint John woke up with a sense of dread that morning in 2013, a feeling of impending doom she couldn't shake. Though both her husband Peter and her mother were battling cancer at the time, she had reason to be optimistic – the doctors believed both were responding well to treatment. Yet something felt terribly wrong. Trying to articulate her unease, she posted on social media: "I feel uneasy. Does anybody else?" Only one person responded affirmatively. Later that day, her mother-in-law called, asking her to come to the hospital immediately. Saint John knew then that her morning foreboding had been prophetic. At Memorial Sloan Kettering in Manhattan, she learned the devastating news – her husband Peter's cancer was terminal. The prognosis was grim: perhaps two weeks to live. In that moment, as she held her dying husband, Saint John faced the hardest truth of her life. "I want to see everybody," Peter said, handing her a list of people to call. Among his written instructions was a poignant first item: "Cancel the divorce." Their story had begun thirteen years earlier in the cafeteria of their office building. Peter had impatiently told her to hurry up while she was meticulously ordering her breakfast. When he approached to apologize, Saint John was unimpressed by this tall white man with a gold chain – until a week later when he proved he'd read her favorite book, Toni Morrison's "Song of Solomon," just to get to know her better. Their first date on November 9, 2000, sparked an immediate connection that transcended racial and cultural boundaries. Saint John's life had already been marked by early encounters with mortality. At seventeen, she discovered a lump in her breast that required a biopsy. Though it was benign, the experience left her with an acute awareness of life's fragility. She scheduled yearly mammograms on her birthday as a reminder. Now, faced with her husband's terminal diagnosis, she was confronting death not as a distant possibility but as an imminent reality. The lesson was clear and would become a cornerstone of her philosophy: when fear arises, instead of running, shine a light on what scares you. Everything seems worse in the dark. As she looked into Peter's eyes, Saint John saw their shared past and uncertain future. She saw the faces of their daughter Lael and the daughter they'd lost. She saw herself when they first met and who she had become. Though terrified, she knew she had to be strong. When Peter asked if she was ready for the fight ahead, she wasn't sure. But she said yes anyway.

Chapter 2: Love in Black and White: Building a Cross-Cultural Relationship

When Bozoma Arthur first met Peter Saint John in 2000, she quickly dismissed him as just another white man who couldn't possibly understand her world. Yet his unexpected depth surprised her – not only had he read Toni Morrison's "Song of Solomon" at her request, but he engaged with the text meaningfully, showing a genuine interest in the African American experience. For Bozoma, raised in a proud Ghanaian household but educated in predominantly white schools in Colorado, this cross-cultural connection was both surprising and refreshing. Their love story unfolded against a backdrop of continuous challenges from the outside world. Walking together in New York City, they frequently encountered hostility – from white women who rolled their eyes at seeing them together to Black men who would aggressively question Bozoma about her choice of partner. One afternoon, a stranger even grabbed her arm at a subway platform, trying to pull her away from Peter. These incidents became part of the texture of their relationship, requiring them to continuously defend their love to others and sometimes even to themselves. Family reactions proved equally complicated. Bozoma's father, a dignified Ghanaian academic and former government official, initially rejected the relationship outright, even flying from China to New York to confront Peter when he learned they planned to move in together. "Why would you shame us like that?" he asked his daughter. Peter's family, particularly his sister Debra, was similarly skeptical. During Bozoma's first visit to Massachusetts, she overheard Debra questioning Peter: "Is she really your type? I know you. Just take your time." Rather than retreating, Bozoma confronted this doubt directly, telling the family that while she too had questions about their relationship, "we are definitely in love and we're going to fight for this." Cultural differences manifested in daily life as well. Peter moved through the world with an ease Bozoma had never known, a confidence she both admired and sometimes resented. When they traveled to Ghana together, she was struck by how Peter's white privilege seemed to follow him even there – he felt comfortable wandering off alone, making friends with locals, and disregarding certain customs she'd been taught to respect. "I should have been ecstatic that Peter was embracing Ghana," she reflected. "Instead, I was pissed at his white-man arrogance." Despite these challenges, they built a relationship grounded in mutual respect and genuine curiosity about each other's backgrounds. They married twice – first in a traditional Ghanaian ceremony in Colorado where Peter was playfully "tricked" into nearly marrying Bozoma's sister as part of the cultural ritual, and later in a Catholic ceremony in New York. They incorporated elements from both cultures, with Bozoma wearing a dress embroidered with the Ghanaian symbol for God during their church wedding. In these moments of celebration, their different worlds seemed to merge seamlessly, creating something entirely new and beautiful. Yet the fundamental differences in how they experienced the world remained a subtle fault line in their relationship. After an incident at a casino where a waitress treated their Black friends with open hostility, Peter expressed solidarity and anger. But when one friend told him, "Don't apologize like you're one of them. You are one of us," Saint John observed a telling reaction: "Peter's eyes didn't well with tears of gratitude. Instead, they widened with alarm... Peter's countenance told me what he could not say. He had empathy for Black people's struggle, appreciation for our resilience. But he wasn't one of us. And he didn't want to be." This realization would become one of many small fissures that would eventually challenge their relationship.

Chapter 3: Cracked Wide Open: Loss and the Breaking Point

The birth of their first child should have been a moment of pure joy, but for Bozoma and Peter, it became a devastating introduction to the fragility of life. At six and a half months pregnant, Bozoma developed severe preeclampsia, her blood pressure soaring to life-threatening levels. As she lay in the hospital, the doctors delivered the unthinkable news: they would have to deliver the baby immediately to save her life. "The choice is either we save you or we save the baby," Peter told her. Without hesitation, Bozoma replied, "Then it's the baby." But Peter had already made the decision to save his wife. Their daughter Eve was born but lived only minutes. Holding her perfect, tiny body, Bozoma counted her fingers and toes, noting how much she resembled Peter with her golden hair. When it came time to hand her baby over, Bozoma couldn't do it. Instead, she gave Eve to Peter, who carried her from the room. "I never saw my daughter again," she writes. The grief was overwhelming, made more complex by Bozoma's feelings toward Peter. Though she understood logically that he'd made the only possible choice, emotionally she struggled with the fact that he had decided her life was more valuable than their daughter's. Determined to heal through another pregnancy, Bozoma returned to trying to conceive almost immediately, despite doctors' recommendations to wait. Her second pregnancy was monitored intensively, with daily self-administered blood thinner injections and constant blood pressure checks. Though she delivered prematurely at thirty-one weeks, their daughter Lael survived after spending five weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit. The experience of watching Lael grow stronger day by day was healing, but it couldn't fully repair the cracks in their relationship. "Instead of bringing us together," Bozoma reflects, "having a child who lived ironically, unfathomably, was tearing us apart." The distance between them continued to grow. They moved from Manhattan to New Jersey, hoping a fresh start might help. But their communication deteriorated as they focused on different priorities. Peter was content with a steady job and occasional celebrations, while Bozoma yearned for more daily passion and connection. She began to feel trapped in a marriage that no longer fulfilled her. "I was frustrated. I was unsatisfied," she writes. "I knew I didn't want to whittle away my life waiting for the next extraordinary moment. You had to live, and try to be happy, in the in-between." Finally, over a dinner at their favorite Indian restaurant, Bozoma spoke the words she'd been holding back: "I don't think I want to be married anymore." Peter was stunned. "Why would I not want it?" he asked. "Even when it's hard, this is all I've ever wanted." The conversation revealed their fundamentally different perspectives on their relationship. While Peter had been patient, believing they would eventually return to their earlier happiness, Bozoma had reached her breaking point. Every time she looked at Peter, she saw Eve and the pain of their loss. She couldn't continue living with that constant reminder. Their separation marked a pivotal transformation for Bozoma. She moved back to Manhattan with Lael, embracing a new sense of freedom. "In Manhattan, I felt my most beautiful, my most powerful," she writes. "I wasn't the mother of a dead child. I wasn't an estranged wife. I was just Boz, living her best life with her little girl." Though she dated other men, none inspired the same deep connection she had once shared with Peter. Meanwhile, Peter waited, still wearing his wedding ring, still believing they might reconcile. "I'm not going to see anybody," he told her. "You're my wife." Little did either of them know that circumstances would soon bring them back together in ways they could never have imagined.

Chapter 4: The Choice: Finding Strength Through Tragedy

When Peter was diagnosed with Burkitt's lymphoma in 2013, it seemed like yet another cruel twist in a life already marked by profound loss. Initially, the prognosis was optimistic – this rare form of cancer was believed to be curable with aggressive treatment. Bozoma, though separated from Peter at this point, immediately stepped into a caregiver role alongside her ongoing care for her mother, who was battling uterine cancer. The once-estranged couple found themselves pulled back into each other's orbits by the gravity of illness. During Peter's treatment, something unexpected happened – Bozoma and Peter's girlfriend Angela formed an alliance, trading shifts at the hospital and exchanging updates about his condition. "I was grateful for her presence," Bozoma admits about the woman who had taken her place in Peter's life. When Peter appeared to be in remission, they celebrated together at his favorite Italian restaurant. It was during this period of apparent recovery that Bozoma finally decided it was time to formalize their divorce, though Peter still wore his wedding ring and harbored hopes of reconciliation. Everything changed when Peter's cancer returned aggressively. The same morning Bozoma woke with an inexplicable sense of dread, Peter's doctors delivered the devastating news that his condition was terminal. Among his handwritten lists of final wishes, the very first item read: "Cancel the divorce." Without hesitation, Bozoma agreed. Whatever time Peter had left, she wanted to be there with him as his wife. "Like the early days of our romance, when we professed our love for each other within weeks and decided to move in together after mere months, our decision was spontaneous," she writes. "Peter and I simply did what we felt was right." This decision required Bozoma to make difficult choices. She asked Peter to end his relationship with Angela, wanting their final days together to be just about them and their daughter. Though she acknowledges this was selfish, the urgency of their situation demanded clarity and focus. "This was urgent," she writes. "Peter and I had only a little time left, and now that we'd decided to get back together, I didn't want to share." As Peter's condition deteriorated, Bozoma faced the hardest conversation of all – telling their four-year-old daughter Lael that her father was dying. A psychologist friend advised them to be direct and truthful. "Don't say that he's sick," she warned, explaining that this might make Lael fear anyone who caught a cold might also disappear. Instead, Peter simply told her, "Daddy has cancer. I'm not going to get better. I'm going to die." When Lael asked why, they had no answer beyond the simple truth: they didn't know. This moment taught Bozoma a profound lesson about honesty that would guide her through the rest of her life. "When I'm in the midst of my hardest conversations, I speak as if I'm talking to a four-year-old," she explains. "We spend so much time burying the truth in a bunch of excuses and rationales, trying to make ourselves feel better or to skirt the uncomfortable. But why add all that extra fluff when the truth is simply what it is?" Through the devastating process of watching Peter slip away, Bozoma discovered a strength she didn't know she possessed. One morning, alone in her apartment while preparing for Peter's move to New York, she heard God's voice with startling clarity: "You didn't appreciate them." The message cut through her grief, forcing her to confront her own shortcomings in how she had valued Ben, Eve, and Peter while they were with her. This realization became a turning point – from that moment forward, she vowed to live with intentional gratitude for every moment, not just the happy ones. "I would no longer take anything for granted, not a love, not a moment," she writes. "From then on, I would live every day of my life with urgency."

Chapter 5: Healing from the Break: Separation and Reconciliation

When Bozoma and Peter first separated after nearly ten years together, neither imagined they would find their way back to each other through terminal illness. Their separation began with the difficult conversation where Bozoma admitted she no longer wanted to be married, leaving Peter stunned and heartbroken. Though they lived apart for nearly three years, they maintained a civil relationship centered around co-parenting their daughter Lael. Peter moved to an apartment down the street from their New Jersey condo, while Bozoma eventually relocated to Manhattan, craving the vibrancy and freedom of city life. What started as an amicable separation grew more complicated when they decided to formalize their divorce. "I suggested Peter and I each get lawyers to draw up the paperwork, not because we really needed them but because I assumed that was just what people who divorced did," Bozoma writes. This decision introduced new tensions. In their lawyers' offices, with each sitting on opposite sides of a conference table, the attorneys posed hypothetical scenarios designed to provoke suspicion and distrust. Matters they had easily navigated before – like sharing custody of Lael or managing their finances – suddenly became points of contention. During this period, Bozoma began dating other men, including a man named Lamar. While she was moving forward, Peter maintained that he would wait for her to return. "I'm not going to see anybody," he told her when she encouraged him to date. "You're my wife." Eventually, however, Peter did begin a relationship with a yoga instructor named Angela. Bozoma recalls her complex emotions upon discovering another woman's shoes in Peter's apartment: "My feelings were unexpected. First there was the gut punch. I felt a little possessive. Then I was elated. Whoever fit those shoes was going to free me from this weird limbo." Simultaneously, Bozoma's mother was diagnosed with uterine cancer, requiring treatment in New Jersey. Then Peter discovered a growth on his neck that was eventually diagnosed as Burkitt's lymphoma. Despite their separation, Bozoma immediately stepped in to help care for him, just as she was caring for her mother. In this period of crisis, something unexpected happened – Bozoma and Angela formed an alliance. "The once-estranged couple found themselves pulled back into each other's orbits by the gravity of illness," she writes. When Peter appeared to be recovering, they celebrated together, and Bozoma finally felt ready to formalize their divorce. Then came the devastating news that Peter's cancer had returned aggressively. The morning Bozoma received a call from Peter's mother asking her to come to the hospital immediately, she learned his condition was terminal. Among his handwritten lists was the simple instruction: "Cancel the divorce." Without hesitation, she agreed. Their reconciliation wasn't about rekindling romance in the traditional sense – it was about honoring their bond in the face of mortality. "Grief and pain, bound up with love and appreciation, would become the new foundation of our relationship reborn," Bozoma reflects. This reunion required difficult conversations, including asking Peter to end his relationship with Angela. Though she acknowledges this request was selfish, the urgency of their situation demanded clarity. Their reconciliation, born from tragedy, gave them the opportunity to heal old wounds before it was too late. They spent Peter's final months creating memories with Lael, revisiting favorite places, and even reenacting their proposal when Peter got down on one knee during a walk by the Hudson River. "We'd already excavated our wedding rings and were wearing them again," Bozoma writes. "I looked at him with a slight smile. 'We're already married,' I reminded him. 'You have to say yes!' he said, starting to laugh. 'Okay,' I replied. 'Yes!'" Through this final chapter together, they found a way to transform their broken relationship into something beautiful, something whole.

Chapter 6: Sugarman Gone: Final Days and Profound Lessons

As Peter's condition deteriorated, even the simplest tasks became monumental challenges. Bozoma recalls watching him struggle to eat a wheat cracker, knowing he might soon lose the ability to enjoy food altogether. In a moment of desperate love, she rushed to the grocery store to make his favorite dish – lasagna – from scratch. "It was after midnight when I finally pulled the pan out of the oven," she writes. "Lasagna's supposed to sit for a while so the juices and spices can settle, but Peter said he couldn't wait, not even twenty minutes." It took him an hour to finish a single piece, but they savored every moment. This urgency to experience life's pleasures while they remained possible became their daily practice. Peter's final weeks were marked by both decline and moments of unexpected joy. Bozoma memorialized their experiences with photographs, capturing their final family outings. When Peter wanted to take Lael fishing one last time, Bozoma reluctantly let them go alone, understanding his need to create memories that would be uniquely theirs. They searched Little Italy for the perfect gelato, a quest that had special significance since Peter had traveled through Italy with his nephew years before. When they finally found a tiny shop with truly exceptional gelato, the victory felt monumental. "Peter plunged his spoon in with a dramatic flourish, then put it in his mouth. He closed his eyes, cherishing the sweetness. He nodded his head, then sighed. Victory." As Thanksgiving approached, a darkening around Peter's eye signaled internal bleeding, requiring hospitalization. Rather than canceling their holiday plans, Bozoma brought Thanksgiving dinner to the hospital, serving turkey and all the trimmings on their wedding china in the family waiting room. Peter's brothers, parents, and Lael gathered around, creating warmth in the sterile environment. By this time, Peter could barely lift his arm, so Bozoma fed him small bites of the softest foods – mashed potatoes, gravy, a tiny bit of turkey. The disease was taking him piece by piece, attacking his nervous system until he could barely move. One night in the hospital, Peter confessed his deepest fear: "Every day I wake up something else is missing, something else is wrong. What if I get trapped? What if I can't open my eyes and you don't know that I'm still in here?" Instead of offering empty reassurances, Bozoma made a promise: "I told him I would never leave. He would never be alone. Even if he couldn't open his eyes, as long as he was breathing, I would sit there every single day and talk to him." It was the last promise she would make to him. In early December, Peter suddenly seemed stronger, his eyes brighter and more focused. He asked to see his closest friends, one by one. They came throughout the day, each spending fifteen or twenty minutes alone with him. The next morning, Peter didn't wake up. Though still alive, he wouldn't open his eyes again. For several days, Bozoma, Peter's parents, sister, and nephew kept vigil by his bedside. Finally, in the early hours of December 11, 2013, Bozoma laid her head on Peter's chest to feel his heartbeat gradually slow. "I thought of Song of Solomon, the Toni Morrison novel that had first tied us together," she writes. "Sugarman done fly away. Sugarman done gone." The lessons of those final days transformed Bozoma's understanding of life and loss. She learned to appreciate the hard things as well as the good, to tease out what difficulties were trying to teach her. She discovered that knowing death was coming didn't make it less devastating, but it did provide an opportunity to say goodbye with intention. Perhaps most importantly, she realized that "relief can be far more complicated than grief. Grief is straightforward... Relief, however, can encompass a kaleidoscope of emotions." She felt relief that Peter's suffering had ended, but also that her own vigil was over – a feeling that brought guilt along with it. Through this complex emotional landscape, Bozoma began to forge a new understanding of how to move forward with both grief and gratitude as her companions.

Chapter 7: Signs: Finding Meaning Beyond Death

In the aftermath of Peter's passing, Bozoma began experiencing inexplicable phenomena that suggested his spirit remained present in her life. The morning after he died, she discovered his pill caddy – a ceramic butler that had held his medications – mysteriously shattered on the kitchen counter though no one admitted to touching it. During his funeral service on what would have been his 44th birthday, hundreds gathered despite a fierce snowstorm. Later, when Bozoma placed Peter's ashes in a crypt alongside their daughter Eve's tiny heart-shaped urn, she found comfort in the thought that "neither of our girls was alone." Unable to face her grief in New York, Bozoma impulsively reached out to a casual professional acquaintance, Marvet Britto, on Christmas night. By what seemed like divine intervention, Marvet was heading to Anguilla the next day and arranged for Bozoma and Lael to stay in a guest house on the island. There, amid the healing Caribbean landscape, Bozoma experienced what she considers one of the most powerful signs from Peter. After days of barely leaving her bed, she took a walk and witnessed two rainbows arching over the ocean. "There's one for Peter and one for Eve," she thought to herself. Then, astonishingly, clouds formed what appeared to be a man's face wearing what looked like a Santa hat – Peter's favorite holiday accessory. She captured a photo that left even skeptical Marvet speechless. More signs followed. Peter's brother called to share that his seven-year-old daughter Giavanna had dreamed of seeing "Uncle Peter" holding a little girl behind a tree on her school playground. In the dream, Peter asked Gia to tell Bozoma that "everything is okay." What made this extraordinary was that the family had never discussed Eve with Gia, nor had Bozoma shared with anyone Peter's hospital statement that "I'll go to heaven and take care of Eve, while you stay here and take care of Lael." These experiences reinforced Bozoma's belief that love forms connections that transcend death. When it came time to rebury Peter's and Eve's ashes in the Saint John family mausoleum in Massachusetts, Bozoma found herself overwhelmed with anxiety. Pulling over to the roadside, she suddenly spotted a Ford with a license plate reading "PETE." She followed the car, which took the exact exit she needed in Worcester before mysteriously disappearing. "Out of all the unfathomable moments I'd already experienced," she writes, "the sight of that Ford struck me the most. It confirmed one of the greatest truths I've gleaned from this entire odyssey... When I was at my weakest, reeling, questioning if I could go on, Peter could just show up and give me strength." After Peter's death, Bozoma made a significant career change, accepting a position with Beats Music that required relocating to Los Angeles. When asked for her résumé – which Peter had always maintained for her – she panicked, unable to find it on his laptop. After praying for help, she simply asked if she could send a bio instead. The response came immediately: "Sure. That works. They want you so badly, they won't care either way." This marked the beginning of an extraordinary career trajectory that would take her to Apple, Uber, Endeavor, and eventually Netflix – and none of these companies ever asked for a résumé. On her 44th birthday – the age Peter never reached – Bozoma had a tattoo of "444" inked on her wrist, representing the time of Peter's death (4:44 a.m.) and a number she continually encountered afterward. Numerologists suggest 444 represents a direct pathway to the spirit world, and for Bozoma, it serves as a constant reminder of the spiritual forces guiding her. That day, surrounded by friends in Malibu, she experienced not the catastrophe she had feared but an overwhelming peace. "I was so happy to be alive," she writes. "I wished Peter had lived as long, that he was living still, but for the first time in a long while, I looked forward to the years stretched out in front of me."

Summary

Bozoma Saint John's journey through unimaginable loss – the suicide of her college boyfriend, the death of her newborn daughter, and the loss of her husband to cancer – reveals a profound truth: our greatest pain can become the catalyst for our most meaningful transformation. Her concept of "the urgent life" emerged not from theoretical philosophy but from the crucible of grief, teaching her to appreciate every moment with intentional gratitude. Saint John learned that living urgently means making conscious choices rather than postponing joy or avoiding difficult conversations. It means embracing the full spectrum of experiences, both painful and joyful, with authenticity and presence. What makes Saint John's story so powerful is how she converted her suffering into wisdom without diminishing its reality. She doesn't offer platitudes about everything happening for a reason, but instead demonstrates how we can integrate loss into our lives while continuing to move forward. Her career success – breaking barriers as a Black woman in corporate America and eventually becoming Netflix's Chief Marketing Officer – runs parallel to her personal evolution, showing how professional ambition can coexist with deep vulnerability. For anyone facing loss, questioning their life's direction, or simply wanting to live with greater intentionality, Saint John's example reminds us that our time is finite and precious. As she quotes from Diane Ackerman: "I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I have just lived the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well."

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Bozoma Saint John

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