People ask me how I cope? The realization hit me like a brick wall
I don’t ‘live’ I exist. I am not depressed I am filled with sadness. I have reached a point in my life where I just sit and listen to the silence. As I listen I reflect on how I got here. Like an old cine’ film the past replays. There used to be color in my life. My childhood. Warmth and happiness. Parents, grandparents and siblings. Vibrancy and possibilities. Noise. Children to nurture and visions of how their lives would evolve and who they would become. Visions of happy family gatherings. Meet ups and play dates and friends with positive lives moving forward much like mine. The future exciting. Careers, comfortable home and happy existence was all we ever hoped for.
Boom. My son vanished at age 16.
Fast forward to today. The past still on replay but now disjointed. Exhausting. Confusing. Desperate. Reflections of horror, sadness and loss hauntingly fill the void. Fragmented thoughts – coming at me in bits as I cling to them in hope. I try desperately to tie them together. Failing. Reaching out for help. Looking for an arm to hold onto. But I am alone. Searching every last memory and moment for a clue to end this bitter crushing pang of fear.
What happened.
He must be dead. How? Was he suffering. Was he hurt. Did he Cry. Think of us? Cry for us.
Did he know? Out there somewhere and alone in his darkness he waits. Thoughts like this slip into my mind and slip out again leaving emptiness.
I listen in silence witness to all the unspeakable possibilities. Waiting for truth and Justice called ‘hope.’
Almost 27 years and we still have some hope we might find the answer.
I recently read a comment on another much more recent case and the author shouted the case should be closed. If he knew the pain and the suffering endured by thousands who are the same place as me. Looking for help and answers. He might begin to understand.
People are not disposable commodities.
