It’s hard to describe what twelve years without any word from a loved one does to a family. In our small village, my older brother Daniel went missing back in early 2014, and for over a decade we had no idea if he was alive or dead. The silence just stretched on, leaving us with endless questions and a quiet ache that never really went away.
Daniel left right after finishing school. He was always the restless type, talking about heading to the city for work and a better shot at life. We encouraged him at first. It seemed normal. Young guys from here often try their luck in bigger places. He promised to call and send money once he settled. Then the calls stopped. His old phone number went dead. No letters came. We asked around in nearby towns, checked with people who traveled to the city, but nothing turned up.
At home, my mother took it hardest. She’d sit outside watching the road every afternoon, hoping to see him walking up with his bag. Years passed. Neighbors started saying he must be gone for good. Some relatives urged us to move on, hold a memorial even. Mom wouldn’t hear it. She kept his room the same, clothes folded, bed made. We never stopped looking quietly. A cousin asked contacts in the city markets. Others checked hospitals and police stations when they could. Still no trace. Read more https://drbokko.com/?p=37526
