Shortly after the truth was revealed about the death of my daughter Polly I met with Joe Biden. During the course of our fifteen minutes together or perhaps it was thirty; I experienced an act of compassion and kindness that retains a special place in my heart. The meeting did not change my life, indeed my life had been profoundly changed in the month prior to the meeting, but it did provide me with insight, clarity and a sense of hope that had heretofore escaped my grasp.
In December 1993, I was invited to Washington DC to meet with President Clinton. During the course of my three days in the nation’s capitol, and for a variety of reasons, I was afforded extraordinary access to America’s political elite. Many of them wanted to strengthen their law and order credentials in preparation for the next year’s election, because public safety was a primary issue of the day. I know that a few tried to enlist me to carry water for their pet criminal justice legislation. Perhaps some of them were simply being kind in the face of personal tragedy. However, there is no doubt that I represented the novelty of the moment because one powerful Congressman declared that people like me represented a “dog and pony show”.
Unfortunately, I have been unable to retain many of the details from that profoundly sad time in my life. Like a legally, but not totally blind person who sees outlines but not detail, my heavy veil of sadness filtered detail leaving impressions with varying degrees of clarity. I do remember being shuttled among offices and meeting a variety of Senators and Congresspersons. Always surrounded by staffers, they would sit with me for a few minutes, express their condolence, talk about their pet projects and we would pose for the inevitable meet and greet photo.
At one point I was in a beautifully appointed but darkened room. Senator Joe Biden was seated on an easy chair in front of his desk. He was alone. There were no aides or handlers anywhere in sight. The Senator motioned for me to sit on a matching chair across from him, about three feet away. In a quiet voice he told me to call him Joe. He expressed his condolence as had so many before. Then, as is Joe Biden’s style, he filibustered for the next several minutes. Quietly and with great compassion, he recounted the story of his own tragedy. He talked about losing his young wife and infant daughter in a catastrophic automobile accident when he was first elected to the United States Senate. He told me about his personal anguish and his moral crisis. He showed me an object; a gift from his deceased wife that he always keeps on his desk as a reminder of her love. Not her loss. He asked me how I was doing. We chatted. He talked about strength, family and faith. When we concluded Joe hugged me and wished me well.
For a brief moment in time we were simply two men who had experienced profound loss, but in truth I was the recipient of a gift. More than anything else Senator Biden served as an example of how to reconstruct a shattered life. If he could recover after having lost so much; if he could live a life of dignity and accomplishment then so could I. I have had many encounters with the Senator since then, but the subject of the meeting has never come up. I share this personal moment because it is important that people understand that Senator Biden stands apart as a politician and as a man.
