It’s been three long years since my brother, Lucas, vanished. He was supposed to be back by evening after a weekend camping trip in the state park. His car was found abandoned at the trailhead, but despite weeks of searching, no one ever found a trace of him. For
a while, I held onto hope. Then came the numb acceptance, the painful routines of moving on. Our family eventually settled into a strange new normal without him. But his absence was like a quiet echo in every room.
I never expected anything to change. I figured that was it. Some stories just don’t get an ending.
