2 Widows Were Married to the Same Man at Different Times. 9 Months After He Died, They Wed Each Other

Deb “Bo” Dimon and Wendy Ishii both loved — and, at different times, married — the late Douglas Ishii. Nine months after Douglas died, the two women ended up marrying each other in a surprising twist.

In a feature published Jan. 17, Bo, 72, and Wendy, 78, told The Denver Gazette how an improbable connection turned into a partnership neither of them could have predicted.

Wendy had been married to Douglas — a longtime professor of Biomedical Sciences and Physiology at Colorado State University — for 35 years, from 1982 until their split in 2017. She said she was stunned to learn Douglas had fallen in love with Bo.

Douglas later moved to Washington state with Bo, and they married in 2018. The couple stayed together until Douglas’ death in April 2025, when he died at 82 following a sudden infection.

Even after divorcing Wendy, Douglas continued managing finances and taxes for both Wendy and Bo — a detail that became crucial after he died.

Douglas, who held more than 20 patents tied to major neuroscience research, left behind a large estate — but no will. That gap forced Bo and Wendy, who didn’t get along at the time, into the same room: attorney Drake Johnson’s office in Fort Collins, Colo., to figure out what came next.

“Doug’s obvious wish was that both women would be financially taken care of throughout their lives,” Johnson told the Gazette. Wendy, meanwhile, explained why she believed Douglas never formalized a plan: “He was a brilliant scientist, but he was truly an absent-minded professor. He clearly had a strategy. He just hadn’t made it official.”

Among the biggest complications: six rental properties were in Wendy’s name. The situation could have turned bitter fast — but Wendy made a choice that changed everything. She offered to split the properties with Bo.

“It’s the right thing to do. And I know it’s what Doug would’ve wanted,” Wendy said.

Her reasoning was straightforward: if everything were divided evenly, both sides of the family — children and grandchildren included — would be treated fairly. Johnson told her she wasn’t legally required to do that, but Wendy didn’t waver: “Yeah, I do.”

As Johnson began thinking through the legal work involved, he cracked what sounded like a joke — and accidentally handed them an elegant solution.

“After listening carefully to everything and realizing that this was going to take a ton of my time,” Johnson recalled to the Gazette, “I told the women, almost as a joke: ‘You’re already married financially. It would just be so much easier for me if you two got married for real.’ “

The comment landed differently than he expected. The two women looked at each other, and Bo replied, “Well then — why wouldn’t we?”

Months later, they followed through. On Jan. 4, they exchanged vows in Wendy’s living room, surrounded by friends and family, promising to support each other in friendship and partnership and to “keep together what share, trouble and sorrow our lives may lay upon.” Johnson officiated.

They also carried a private tribute: each had a small vial of Douglas’ ashes tucked into her bra during the ceremony. They told the Gazette they felt Douglas was present in spirit — and likely “rolling his eyes and laughing” at the improbable outcome.

“Every marriage, as you know, is based on a unique story, and ours is no exception,” Bo said. “We have a unique bond. We were both married to the same wonderful man. I mean, who knows my life better than Wendy?”

In the months leading up to the wedding, the two women spent time together, talking through the past and discovering how much they shared — including the complicated history that first put them at odds.

“And what we have in common is Doug,” Wendy told the Gazette. “Doug was the most amazing person I’ve ever known, and he loved Bo. So what I want now more than anything else is to know her. And what I know of Bo now, I really like.”

Now, the two widows are moving forward from different states — but with a new bond shaped by the same grief and, unexpectedly, a growing affection.

“Through their mutual loss, Wendy and Bo have, against high odds, found in each other a healthy and sustaining way to talk and cry and laugh away grief,” said friend and author John Calderazzo. “And beyond that, many of us have witnessed a growing mutual affection that has arisen from helping each other to heal.”