I buried my son years ago, and ever since, I've spent every day trying to fill the silence he left behind. Then I came across a photo of a man who looked remarkably like the boy I had buried.
I buried my son, Barry, 15 years ago. That kind of thing changes a person.
My son was 11 years old when he passed away. He had ash-blond hair and a shy smile. I still remember it like it happened yesterday.
Barry's disappearance has shattered my world.
These kinds of things transform a man.
The search lasted for months. Police boats combed the lake where the quarry was located. Volunteers scoured miles of forest trails. My wife, Karen, and I spent countless nights staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring.
It never rang.
Finally, the sheriff summoned us. Without a body, there wasn't much they could do. The case would remain open, but after all this time, they had to assume our son was dead.
Karen cried until she was breathless.
I sat there, saying nothing.
The search lasted for months.
Life went on.
Karen and I never had any more children. We talked about it, but I think we felt that losing another child would completely devastate us.
Instead, I immersed myself completely in my work.
I owned a small hardware and supply store on the outskirts of town. Running it gave me something to focus on, which made the days fly by.
Fifteen years have passed in this way.
I immersed myself completely in my work.
Then, one afternoon, something strange happened.
I was sitting at my desk, reviewing resumes for a maintenance worker position. The store needed a responsible person.
Most of the applications were similar: little professional experience, some references, nothing remarkable.
Then I came across an app that caught my attention.
The name that appeared at the top of the page was "Barry".
I thought it was just a coincidence. "Barry" was a common first name.
