8 Years Missing


We say that we have a sister like she belongs to us.
One understands that having a sister is being indebted for life when she disappears.
Sometimes two sisters celebrate their centenary side by side; their frail shoulders welded to the other as the deep friendship that endures forever.
Sometimes sisters do not know each other, they live their lives their separate ways, not having – or not taking – the time to share new events together.
Sometimes two sisters are separated at birth or later, by human error or death, always tragic regardless of the circumstances.
Sometimes a sister goes missing.

The other sister remains in the shadows in silence, wondering what happened, trying to follow in the footsteps, to understand where the shoes of the other led her.
The disappearance only brings torment, a thick fog that does not dissipate with the passing years.
In trying to find her, we see thousands of beautiful and often smiling faces still held at arm’s length by family members, also frozen in time.
Sometimes another person tells me about the disappearance of their sister, caused by Alzheimer’s, abduction, runaway, mental illness, human trafficking, or else.

A sister is a bit of childhood that can never be lost.
Marion C. Garretty

Every day I miss my sister.
Every day I hope she remembers that she can count on me.
I may never find an answer to the disappearance of Marilyn. I may even never see Marilyn again but in my heart I know I’ll always have a sister.

Seven years ago, Marilyn disappeared.


I’m still looking in my memories for the mirror that I must have broken since that fateful day when I began my search for her.

Seven… A magic number according to some beliefs.
Seven… The age of reason, the sabbatical year, the deadly sins, the wonders of the world, the women of Bluebeard, and the art of cinema.

Seven years already since you went for a walk, Marilyn, and never returned. Who would have thought? Certainly not me, nor the person I know as my sister.

What has struck me in the last seven years? This question comes up a lot these days.Tonight, seven words echo in my head:

Hope. The favorite one. The only one who holds up all the families of missing persons to live and to carry-on. I hope to use it for something else one day.
No. For the number of times I have heard “No” in the last seven years. Too bad for those who believed that it would make me give up.
Family. For the survival of my family despite the pain, and for our ability to still have fun regardless.
Violence. To emphasize my exasperation with the people who are content to say nothing for the victims. You know who you are. You should demand more.
Pizza oven. To represent all the horror stories that I have heard as a necessary evil to advance the investigation of a missing person.
Illness. When all hypotheses are considered, I learn more about unhappiness, human exploitation, and mental illness. There are too many people who feel lonely.
Silence. For people who do not speak and that should perhaps try, just to feel better.

Seven years. Here’s what the “Espace Citoyens” told me:
Seven years after the person’s disappearance, the Superior Court may pronounce a declaratory judgment of death.

This time, it’s me who says, “No.”
Because I still hope, with the invaluable support of my family and friends, to find my sister alive. I am fortunate to be neither sick nor beaten; nor I do not fear “pizza ovens” or any other disaster scenarios. I will never be silent about the disappearance of my sister Marilyn. I will continue to fight to find her.

Like my little girl would say, I love you all (seven) days of the week Marilyn.
Please give me a sign.

Nath xx

Already six years.


Is it even possible that six years have already passed ?

I was in New York, this city we were going to visit together. I gave you the choice between Coachella or NY for this sisterhood trip that we talked about for such a long time. Since then, I have politely declined almost all invitations to attend concerts. Without you, the music no longer resonates in my heart the same way.

New York is covered with snow. It took me nearly two days to finally arrive in Quebec City. I will spend several weeks there before returning to California, going back to work, getting married, losing loved ones, giving birth to Lætitia, attending weddings, supporting people divorcing, changing work, adopting a puppy…

Six years have passed. I live this parallel life in which I search… And will search for you without loosing hope of finding you.

I looked for you all over the world, in capitals and villages, police stations, charity organizations, in a movie, at the FBI Headquarter, in the press, on the Internet, by mail, by telephone, by letter, and so on. I searched among old friends who remember you and among your acquaintances that I did not know. I searched with extraordinary strangers with heart of gold.

We all look for you in our own way. Constantly, frequently, or occasionally.

I look for you. We will continue, relentlessly, to try to find you with the resources that we have. We will not loose hope.

I hope that luck will smile at me and finally I will find you, even if I don’t know what I will find.


Your body.

The shadow of what you were.


Six years already. I miss you like the first day.

Please give me a sign.

Nath xx

Missing for Five Years, Open Letter to Marilyn


Dear Marilyn,

For five years now you have not been a part of my life.
I hope that this is a personal choice, but doubt and anxiety sober me.
What happened to you?

The reality of your loss sinks in every day, but I cannot adapt to the worries.
It gnaws the heart… Responses that never come. Your voice only resonates in the past.

In the meantime, I’m still looking for you.

I wish I could express to you once more the love I have for you, which in turn carries the hope.
The words are missing, just as you are, and I miss you. Fortunately, I still have the memories and hope.

I have dreams that are light as wings,
That leave me their joy to the heart, in souvenir,
That always fly back forever
I have dreams that are like swallows.
– Translation of ”Rêves” by Albert Lozeau. (5-8)

Write me if you can (http://www.findmarilyn.com). If you cannot, know that I will not forget you.

Your sister who loves you,
Nathalie xxx



by Andrée Béchard, mother of Marilyn
Do not tell me the time arranges things,
Do not tell me to cross steps one by one,
Do not talk to me about mourning,
But tell me of hope.
Give me the strength,
Tell me not to despair.
It’s her silence.
Silence in her voice, her joys, her music.
These are life moments without her,
Moments that should be shared.
It’s the usual gaze on the same objects, her objects,
Interspersed with daily actions,
Where words and questions are lost.
Do not tell me to move on,
In this new situation, I still find her.
Do not talk to me as if she no longer exists.
She is just elsewhere, perhaps even different.
Do not tell me about memories and forgetting them at the same time,
But tell me of will,
Tell me of energy fighting fear,
Give me wisdom;
Which allows me to believe and carry on.
It is to speak of her in the present tense,
Without counting the hours and days that separate me from her,
The darkness of the night comes back and helps clear away the heaviness of her absence.
Still, I look forward to the new morning!
Who knows … at sunset …
I may finally have the long awaited news!
To our beloved daughter, Marilyn
Since February 17, 2008, we never stop thinking about you. We are looking for you everywhere. Being without news of you has profoundly changed our lives. You know how much we love you. We would love to see you and hug you.
Wherever you are, whatever your lifestyle, we will respect you. We will always be there to support, encourage, and help you if that’s what you want. We kindly ask Mary… Please contact us, your family, so that we can be relieved in hearing your voice.
You cannot imagine how happy it would make us!
We are so worried and sad!
Give us some news Mary! We need you!
Mom and dad who love you xxx

The Absent Aunt

Between each Valentine’s Day and February 17th, I go through the last bits of our conversations in my head.What did I miss? Are there any words that could have made a difference? Was it me who did not listen or you who did not say?
Were we both under the false impression that we would continue this conversation soon? Were you forced to keep quiet?
Will I know one day the cause of this silence? Or should I grow older still hoping to hear your voice?I learned to cherish your words like treasures. Despite the time that passes, I force them to cling to my memory so that they can resonate in my mind like if you had spoken to me yesterday. Time does not help. It takes me away from your laughter, your intonation, your sentences, and your songs. I am desperately looking for a piece of you through the photos and the memories. I wonder why I don’t have more.The time has taken close relatives who left without being able to say goodbye to you.
The time that passes makes me say bad words that I do not mince toward those who just seem to find excuses.
The time passes, relentlessly, but there is still hope that you can be found.
I continue to say ”Après la pluie, le beau temps.”

The time that passes also made you an aunt.
You loved music so much, we are sharing your passion with her.
In due time, she will know your story.
Will you be with us to tell her?

I wait and I search for you Marilyn, beloved aunt.

With love,
Nathalie, Laurent & Laetitia xxx

Letter by a childhood friend

Letter written by Meggy (Marie-Ève Gagnon) in February 2011 for the event ”Think of Marilyn.”

We met about 19 years ago. Naive, young and innocent… Nothing could stop us. You lived only a few houses away from mine. There are so many souvenirs. We invented games where Robin Hood was perched in the trees in your backyard. Remember the famous show in your basement? We charged $2 per person so we could go to McDonald’s.  The thousands of letters written during school hours with our secret code so that people could never understand. Basketball, Nirvana, Pulp Fiction … Our music group where you were the only one with talent. The numerous exits through the window of my basement so I could come to yours and talk until the wee hours of the morning. Our first cigarette … You’d had the brilliant idea to put some babypowder on the ceiling fan so that Michel and Andrée would not suspect anything! But what a mess! Our first party where your mother Andrée discovered everything. And then you moved away … Of course we both continued to evolve separately but always kept in touch.

This is true friendship. No need to talk every day but never a single doubt about one another. You are part of my life and even though we’re not together and we have not spoken for over 3 years, you are by my side through good and bad times. You’re a part of me!

I love you Mary

Your sister of heart Meggy