I laid my son to rest years ago and spent every day since trying to fill the silence he left behind. Then I came across a photo of a man who looked exactly like the boy I buried.<\/p>\n
I buried my son, Barry, 15 years ago. That kind of thing changes a man.<\/p>\n
My son was 11 when he died. He had sandy-blond hair and a shy smile. I still remember him as if it happened the day before.<\/p>\n
Barry’s disappearance tore my world apart.<\/p>\n
The search lasted for months. Police boats dragged the quarry lake. Volunteers walked miles of forest trails. My wife, Karen, and I spent countless nights staring at the phone, hoping it would ring.<\/p>\n
It never did.<\/p>\n
Eventually, the sheriff sat us down. Without a body, there wasn’t much they could do. The case would stay open, but after so long, they had to assume our son had died.<\/p>\n
Karen cried until she couldn’t breathe.<\/p>\n
I just sat there.<\/p>\n
Karen and I never had other children. We talked about it, but I think we believed losing another child would destroy us completely.<\/p>\n
So instead, I buried myself in work.<\/p>\n
I owned a small hardware and supply store just outside of town. Keeping it running gave me something to focus on, which made the days move forward.<\/p>\n
Fifteen years passed in that way.<\/p>\n
Then, one afternoon, something strange happened.<\/p>\n
I’d been sitting in the office flipping through resumes for a janitor position. The store needed someone dependable.<\/p>\n
Most of the applications looked the same: short job histories, a few references, nothing memorable.<\/p>\n
Then I reached one that made me stop.<\/p>\n
The name at the top read “Barry.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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