I laid my son to rest years ago and spent every day since trying to fill the silence he left behind. Then I came across a photo of a man who looked exactly like the boy I buried. I buried my son, Barry, 15 years ago.
That kind of thing changes a man. My son was 11 when he died. He had sandy-blond hair and a shy smile.
I still remember him as if it happened the day before. Barry’s disappearance tore my world apart. The search lasted for months.
Police boats dragged the quarry lake. Volunteers walked miles of forest trails. My wife, Karen, and I spent countless nights staring at the phone, hoping it would ring.
It never did. Eventually, the sheriff sat us down. Without a body, there wasn’t much they could do.
What happened next changed everything…
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