One Moment at a Time

I met Jolene today.

I saw a young Latina girl wearing a T-shirt with a picture of the Little Mermaid when I stopped the mailbox this evening.

Have I mentioned that I engage children in conversation whenever possible?

So I asked the girl if her name was Ariel.

"No," she said shyly.

"Tell her your name," her mother urged.

"Jolene."

Jolene.

I don't know if I've ever met another six year old named Jolene. But God knew I needed to meet another sweet child who bears the same name as my girl.

It's been a day I've survived a moment at a time.

We awoke early, made a 45 minute crosstown trip to apply for death benefits. It was hard, oh so hard. An in your face reminder of the reality of what happened. I drove straight home and climbed into bed. Awoke 30 minutes later, refreshed, ready for work.

At the office, two different managers took the time to talk with me and offer to help me in any way I needed. On the way home I met Jolene.

Once in my apartment, I opened a card that said how I'll miss seeing Jolene smile and hearing her laughter.

And started bawling. Oh, God, how can I bear never seeing my baby again?

One moment at a time, I'm making it through. God is good.

Dancing with Grief Plus 1 week

Sunday at church I met a dear little girl named Hannah Grace. She was born on a week earlier, on March 16th--my daughter Jolene's birthday.

A nice coincidence except for one thing.

Jolene committed suicide on one of the days immediately prior to her birthday. Sometime between Thursday night and Saturday.

Jolene Elizabeth Franklin would have been 24 years old on her birthday. Like Hannah, we had committed our child to the Lord from birth. And the "Jo" part of "Jolene," from "John," means "God is gracious."

So although Hannah Grace sounds nothing like Jolene Elizabeth, her name resonated with me.


Seven days ago at 9:30 PM, I sat petrified in my living room, waiting for the officer who had taken my missing persons report to call. He finally notified us at 11:30 at night.

Now we know. This side of heaven, I will never again hear my girl's laughter or have her rub my back. The memorial service is completed. Family has returned to Oklahoma. Today I spent a hard day chasing done legalities--bank accounts, death benefits, getting the key to her apartment so that we can clear it out. All those things took days to accomplish because we have no death certificate (we won't until the tox screen returns in 2 months), no will, no experience and no one to give us a users manual for grieving family members. I am exhausted beyond what I imagined possible.

But perhaps I will see Hannah Grace again next Sunday. And be reminded that God's grace continues, His faithfulness endures, and life goes on.

I know that many of you have lost children due to various reasons. Others have lost loved ones to suicide. And those who have not those particular pains have gone through your own vale of suffering. I want this blog where we can all share, lift each other up, and cry on each other's shoulders. Feel free to share.