Read Online Missing Persons by Clare O'Donohue - Free Book Online

things like, “You need to move on,” or “It’s time to let go.” And they’re probably right. It’s easy for grief to go from a temporary condition to a lifestyle choice.
    But in most cases I think what happens is that the people don’t move on; they just shut up. I knew at the one-month mark that none of my friends were interested in another retread of my relationship, so unless there was news, I said nothing. They all thought I was healing, and it made them feel better. And maybe it helped me feel better too, since I was forced to find a subject other than Frank to talk about.
    It was something I also understood from the many times I’d sat with families being interviewed for Caught! They had all lost loved ones to murder and, sometimes years later, were still in the center of their grief. They had all heard “Time to let go” from their families and friends and had learned to keep the memories to themselves. But the pain was still there.
    When I came to their door, I was a welcome relief. I hadn’t heard the story a thousand times. I hadn’t been there for the death, the funeral, the trial. It was all new to me. And not only was I willing to hear their story, I was eager. I wanted all the details. I wanted the pain on display. It didn’t matter that I was just using them for a television show; I could always see the gratitude and comfort they got from knowing I would never ask them to move on.
    But sitting here with Linda I was in unfamiliar territory. She had the same appreciation for the chance to tell her story, only this time her story wasn’t finished. Her daughter wasn’t in a grave. She was out there somewhere, and Linda might never know where. How could she “move on,” I wondered. Even when her friends were sick of hearing the details, even when the yellow ribbons had been taken down and the “Help Find Her” posters had faded, there were no answers.
    “This is from her graduation. It was just weeks before . . .” She left the statement unfinished. She handed me a photo of herself with Theresa. Theresa was holding a small silver charm. “It’s a nurse’s cap,” Linda explained. “She’s planning to be a nurse.”
    I noticed the way she spoke of Theresa in the present tense. “Wonderful profession,” I said.
    “This was when she was eight.” Linda showed me another photo. In this one a young Theresa stood by a church in a white dress and veil.
    I recognized the occasion. “Her First Communion.”
    “The dress was more than I wanted to spend, but Theresa was so insistent.” She smiled at the memory. “She said she’d save it and wear it for a wedding dress. I explained to her that it probably wouldn’t fit when she was old enough to get married, but she wouldn’t budge. I gave in. I told her we’d get this dress for her Communion and we’d get her a whole new beautiful dress when she got married.”
    She started to cry. I put my hand on hers and we sat silently. I looked at her with all the compassion I could, but then I got to wondering if Andres was almost ready with the lights.
    The first episode of Caught! I’d ever done was about a high school senior, a star athlete, who’d been murdered by his stepfather. The boy’s mother was so full of pain and guilt I cried with her. I did a terrible job with the interview and a worse job with the script. The crime scene photos, of that boy with a gunshot wound through his heart, stayed with me for weeks.
    It didn’t help anybody for me to care, but it was crucial to the interview that I seemed to, so I sat and held Linda’s hand while she cried, until Andres walked into the room.
    “We’re ready,” he said.
    I turned to Linda. “Why don’t we just get this interview finished, so we can talk again afterwards?”
    “You’re so kind,” she said. “It makes such a difference to talk to someone who really wants to help.”

Fifteen
    A fter a few adjustments of microphones and lights, we started the interview. Linda and I