Not for the Squeamish: Embracing the Bad

Frequent conversation:

"My daughter died.”

“How did she die?”

“She committed suicide.”

Most people express their sympathy but do not probe further.

However, more often than I expected:

“How did she do it?” Followed by protestations of denial and disbelief.

Mom says she wants to retort “Why? Do you want to try it too?”

Why do people disturb our grief with inappropriate questions? Today’s meditation from Meditations for Survivors of Suicide included the following statement: “Cherish the good times; embrace the bad experiences your loved one knew; learn from them but then let them go.”

Looking through Jolene’s pictures, we remember the good times, the happy, joyful girl whom everyone loved. Reading the poetry, we recognize the inner pain she felt so often, almost constantly, in fact. But the one bad experience that troubles me now is the manner of her death.

Jolene didn’t just commit suicide. She hung herself.

I prayed about it this morning. I wouldn’t feel happier or at more at peace if she had gone a different way. But the thought of the agony she endured scratches my soul. I’m not sure if I should try to push it down or take it out, dust it off, and examine it in the clear light of day.

Well, I must have decided to take it out of the box, at least for a few minutes. Because feelings don’t stay pushed down; they leak out, often at inappropriate times. And this blog is my safety zone.

It makes no real difference. Nothing I do or say or think or feel will change the facts. She is with God, at peace, beyond physical and emotional pain. However awful the manner of her death, it is over.

Nonetheless, I ache about it. Mom aches about it. Pray with us for peace about it, please?

The Pursuit of Goodness

Another line from a hymn, When All Thy Mercies: "Thro' every period of my life Thy goodness I'll pursue, and after death, in distant worlds, the glorious theme renew."

The idea of pursuing God's goodness, whatever is happening around me, resonates with me. Like Paul promises in Romans 8:28, God will make everything work together for good for those who are called according to His purpose.

Somehow, God will weave the tragedy of Jolene's death into the beautiful design of eternity.

That faith—that affirmation—is what I must seek through these day. Today's meditation in Meditations for Survivors of Suicide included the prayer "When we stand stranded by the roadside of our shattered hearts, You promise, 'I will show you the way.'" I feel stranded, my heart is shattered, but God's promise is sure. He will show me the way to His goodness. When I am to weak to walk, He will carry me on the path.

Here on earth, I see the underside of the divine design, each event a knotted clump of dark thread.

After death, I will see the design beautiful beyond imagination. And with the countless multitudes, I will renew the theme of God's goodness.

Until then, I trust His purposeful goodness when all I see are tangled threads.

Light Bounces Back

A few days ago I wrote about God’s light shining in the darkness. At the time, I finished reading Janice Thompson’s cozy mystery Gone With the Groom. “Annie Agatha” asks God to shine His light on the darkness surrounding the disappearance of her future son-in-law. God echoed the message of His overpowering light through her words.

Janice Thompson is not only a great writer but also a good friend. In the wee hours of the morning when we learned Jolene was dead, I posted a message to the Barbour author loop. To my shock, Janice wrote back immediately—a real night owl. Her response was a harbinger of the outpouring of love we received from the Christian writing community.

Thank you, Janice. Thank all of you who care and pray and read.

And when you have a chance, check out Gone With the Groom.

Empty Chair

Jaran, Mom and I sat at a square table. The fourth side stared back at us, daring us to mention the missing member of our family.

Something about having Jaran here made Jolene’s absence more palpable. Because until March 17th, Jolene was the 4th member of my immediate family. I have no one else: mother, son …. That is it. No husband, no brothers, no sisters, father’s whereabouts unknown. I know that deaths often come in threes. I don’t even dare to express my fear. What if God takes Mom? What if He takes … Jaran? I can't afford to lose any more.

This weekend was doubly hard for Mom; many of Jolene’s knickknacks came from her home in Maine. The work multiplied her sense of loss exponentially. Jolene, her home on the coast, a lifetime in New England , her husband of 28 years.

Mom’s in good health. I have no reason to expect her to die. And I affirm that whatever happens, God will enable me to bear it.

But I will rest easier in my spirit when a year has passed and the three of us are still here.

Hard Day's Night

After I spent a night tossing and turning, Mom, Jaran and I worked for six solid hours today going through the majority of Jolene’s things. Surprising things brought tears to my eyes: Jolene’s karate gui, the infant/child size 6 uniform that she wore when she played soccer in kindergarten, the “Jekyll & Hyde” T-shirt that reminded of us of the wonderful time we went to see the musical when it came through Denver.

One thing that stopped us all in our tracks, a poem Jolene wrote on November 11, 2004, an eerily-prophetic piece. Some of you know that Jolene won awards for her poetry. This isn’t quite “polished,” but it’s beautiful and it makes us cry. It expresses Jolene’s feelings as well as our own.

In Dire Need

Prayed in this moment in time,
That this time has made,
In dire need I call out to you.
Sorrow fills my soul
Like an ocean tossing and turning
Leaving behind a hole that cannot be filled.
Life is like ashes in the wind
Blowing away where none can see
Leaving behind a hole of sorrow.
Oh, Lord, please bring me back again.
Still these waters of mine.
Fill this hole of sorrow
With rays of joy.
Amen.

Treasure Trove

We spent half an hour at the storage place this morning. Just long enough to see how much lies ahead (33 boxes) and to look specifically for the scrapbook I had given to Jolene for Christmas a few years ago.

We feared Jolene had torn up the scrapbook in a fit of rage (because the packers had not found it in packing). So … God’s perfect timing … the scrapbook was in the last box we opened as our 30 minutes came to an end. Amen! Hallelujah!

But we found so many other things we feared were lost. That I have mourned in this blog.

Yes, we found several of the porcelain dolls! Including “Natty Gann,” the one I most wanted. That’s when I came the closest to crying.

Her artwork? Removed from the walls, yes … but carefully wrapped and put away. We found an entire box of folders full of sketches and drawings. Much more than I guessed she had saved.

Also journals, poems, undiscovered writings, a scrapbook with certificates of her accomplishments.

All in all—a record of a life of promise, a life in progress, a life lived to the full.

Part of me celebrates.

Part of me cries.

Jaran's here!

Just a quick note to say that Jaran arrived safely this evening. It's 10 PM and I've just come home from work/airport/dinner.

Your prayers appreciated as we face sorting through Jolene's things.