When I Met Joe Biden

It was the fall of 2010, and my husband Bryan was in the midst of a bid for Pennsylvania’s 7th Congressional seat. Joe Biden and Nancy Pelosi, along with other well-known and local Democrats, had decided to hold a fundraiser to support his campaign. Although he would end up losing his race to Pat Meehan, Bryan was one of the few Democrats nationally who was expected to win his seat, and the Democratic party was decidedly invested in his campaign.

The fundraiser was expensive and comprised Philadelphians with wealth, power, and reputation. A select few were chosen to wait for the arrival of Vice President Biden in a separate room, where he and Speaker Pelosi were scheduled to appear at any moment. Five minutes of waiting seemed like forever, but then Biden burst through the door with energy and a smile. He turned to our small crowd and asked, “Where’s Jenny?!?”

Me? 

I waved shyly. He walked right up to me, shook my hand, paused, and looked me straight in the eye. “How are you?” he asked.

He had me at, “Where’s Jenny?” I was smitten. He was kind and warm and personable. He looked at me when I spoke, which is rare when you are standing next to your candidate  husband. He didn’t rush anyone or talk over them. He took time to laugh with some and quietly listened to others. It was my favorite moment on the campaign trail.

Biden’s presence that day was meaningful to everyone who attended. But to me, his presence had a unique meaning. As many know, Biden lost his wife, Neilia, and his one-year-old daughter, Naomi, in 1972, when a tractor-trailer broadsided their car. His two sons, Beau (then 4 years old) and Hunter (then 3), were severely injured but eventually recovered. What Biden may or may not have known that day was that my husband and I had lost our own son, also named Joe, to brain cancer, one year prior to that fundraiser. The tumor took his life within four months of his diagnosis. He was two and a half.

When I met Joe Biden, I was still struggling, every single moment of every day, with the loss of our son. That morning, it had taken all of my energy just to put on a dress for the event. It took even more energy to engage in small talk while we waited for Biden’s arrival. Every time I breathed, my heart hurt. When I scanned the crowd, I felt foggy and close to collapse. Those debilitating grief responses were constant for about six years after Joseph died, and recurred regularly for years longer.

When Joe Biden poured into that room, calling for me and smiling, I saw resilience. I saw a way to wade through my swamp of intense sadness. I saw a man who had suffered through, and was living with, the loss of a part of himself every day. Seeing him live well after life had delivered him a devastating blow gave me courage and hope that I too could live well with my grief.

Here is a photo of that day. Neither of us appears crushed. Neither of us looks like we are hurting. But I can attest to the fact that, underneath it all, I was a completely demolished person with a shattered heart, who was trying to find her way back into the world.

Jennifer Lentz lives in Swarthmore with her husband, Bryan. She is the mother of four children.