I saw you for the last time in January 2008, at the funeral of our grandfather.
We were seated next to each other at the kitchen table.
I was busy preparing a souvenir video. You helped me.
It was more than three o’clock in the morning. You asked me why I was trying to finish a project too big for the little time I had before me.
I replied, “So that we can see Grandpa at least once as we knew him before the disease, before Alzheimer’s.”
If I saw you again today Marilyn, could I recognize you?
Tonight I look at pictures of you. What’s going on in your life right now? Are you even still alive?
These images are precious. I do not know if I will have others one day. I wish I had more.
I still do not know what happened on February 17, 2008.
If you have reasons for not coming back, I will understand them, but say something, please.
If a tragedy hit you and maybe shame stifles you, know that the past does not matter. Only the present and the future count.
If you are forced into silence, please know that I will continue to look for you, telling myself that even in the darkest hours some people clung to the hope that finally prevailed.
Even when something seems inevitable, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel.
I told you this sentence in February 2008, just a few days before you disappeared and I still believe in it today.