A month ago, I was reliving the horror of the events of the days leading up to the discovery of Jolene’s body. I felt compelled to record the details before they faded from memory.
This month, I left Oklahoma on the 13th—the probable anniversary of Jolene’s actual death—and didn’t even think about it.
I’m not sure whether to be sad or glad. How could I forget so soon? How can I not be happy I’m moving forward?
In any case, today, the two month anniversary of Jolene’s official date of death, loomed large on the calendar. Mom pointed out that it’s another anniversary for her; five years ago she had a stroke the weekend of May 17-18. A double whammy.
I prayed for grace and strength during my quiet time. Then I opened my prayer list.
Next up: Jolene. Oh, God.
My thoughts today have centered around Jolene being frozen in time. She will always be twenty-three. We will grow older. We have already experienced two months that she didn’t witness with us. (Aside from whatever knowledge those in heaven have of our lives here.) She has not enjoyed the “prettiest spring in Colorado” Mom has ever seen. She does not know about her coming niece or nephew. I can’t tell her about my new book contract. She can’t plan her wedding with Marius.
If so much has happened in two months, what changes will a year bring? Five years? What changes would they have brought to Jolene?
She’s gone. But we’re not. And life has so much left to offer, a cornucopia of blessings and trials. Things I’ll experience without my daughter.
Good bye, dear girl. I wish I could have seen your mature beauty.