A Parent's Worse Nightmare

 I've been feeling the urge to write but lately, the inspiration has escaped me. This morning I was listening to my niece/friend Barb's Facebook live and she talked about a loved one of hers who for a year or so hasn't heard from her adult child nor does she know where her child is. This made me think of the longest and scariest five minutes of my life. I was about 28 years old, shopping in a little second-hand shop with my youngest son, Jacob on my hip, and my four-year-old son, Seth by my side. While browsing through the baby clothes, I could hear the bells that were attached to the door of the little shop ring with customers going in and out. Each time I heard the bell ring, I would look to see who was coming or going. With the baby still on my hip, reaching for the hanging clothes, Seth sat by my feet playing with his little wrestling figurine. As I continued to sort through the clothes, I was still aware of the bell of the moving door, but I stopped paying attention to whether someone was exiting or entering. It suddenly dawned on me that Seth was being a little too quiet, I looked down and he was gone. I think my heart stopped for a moment. I called his name, trying to remain calm but this store really wasn't much bigger than an extra-large living room. He didn't answer and I didn't see him anywhere. I rushed over to the counter and asked the lady behind it "Have you seen my little boy? he was just here". The lady went over and pulled the curtain of the dressing room back but all that was there was a plastic clothes hanger on a chair. I thought back to the sound of the bells on the door and I thought "Could one of the times they rang, be because of him? Was he strong enough to push the heavy door open? Did somebody take him? Still holding the baby, I dropped the few outfits in my hand and ran out the door. I looked both ways down the sidewalk and I only saw an elderly woman entering the post office next door. I ran to my car, bouncing poor Jacob all over the place. I looked in the front and the back seats, he wasn't there. Where could he be? My heart was pounding, and tears sprang up in my eyes as I ran back toward the store with my baby crying so hard, I am sure he had no idea why he was being so hurridly bounced around. As I approached the store, there is the window was a missing person's poster, what the hell? of course, there was. I felt like I was in a bad Life Time movie. There I stood, back in the store, I think at this point I was probably crying as hard as the baby that I was holding. I continued to shout his name as the store clerk and I frantically pushed through the hanging clothes hoping to find him.

All of a sudden, under a round carousel clothes rack, I saw the purple toe tips of his Barney the Dinosaur boots sticking out. I whipped the clothes aside, and there he stood. I had a feeling of the blood draining from my body. I fell to my knees in front of him, grabbing and hugging him, with screaming baby Jacob between us and I just sobbed. The store clerk must have thought I was crazy, I didn't care at that point, all I could do is cry tears of relief and thank God that my little boy was ok. We abruptly left the store. Later, when I explained to my son how scared I was and how important it was to never leave my side when we weren't at home, he said: "I was playing hiding". I think he probably heard the panic in my voice and it scared him, so he stayed hidden. What seemed like hours of a slow-motion nightmare was in reality, approximately five minutes of time.

Here it is 28 years later, and my Barney boot-wearing little boy is now a parent himself. Thinking back to that moment can still bring tears to my eyes and I think how blessed I am that my nightmare, in reality, was very short-lived but what about the person Barb spoke of this morning? A whole year? Adult or not, that missing person is still her child. What about the parents whose kids were kidnapped and gone for years or even worse, never found? I can't even fathom what day-to-day life is like for them. Even thinking of the horrific and unimaginable stories of people like Adam Walsh, Jon Benet, Steven Stainer, and Elizabeth Smart, to name a few, and closer to home, my former coworker's son PJ Davis. Jon Benet and Pj's bodies and Adam's severed head were all found within days to weeks of their disappearances. My adult cousin went missing years ago and was declared deceased but his body was never found. As a parent and now a grandparent, I can't imagine losing my child or grandchild to death. No matter how it happens and I pray it never will but somehow I wonder if, even with the result being death, might give even an ounce of closure or peace, than not knowing. Would not knowing give you a constant state of fear of the unknown? Would you always be wondering if your child is alive, being abused and constantly hurt, cold, or hungry? Or would not knowing give you a feeling of hope that your child is actually safe, loved, and somehow returns one day? 

I'm guessing the unknown is somehow worse than death, but honestly, I can't imagine ever living through either scenario. As I said, 28 years of my 5 minutes of Hell can still bring me to tears and give me restless anxiety that feels like a punch to the gut.

As I have been writing this, I have felt the urge to stop and pray for Barb's loved one, her "lost" child, My Aunt and Uncle and for all the parents who have and are living this kind of horror. God bless each and every one of you. May God make his presence known in the midst of your nightmare.