Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Suzan McColl's Son Is Missing

"I look for him all the time in my daily life -- in crowds, at airports, on street corners in Seattle. Tall, slender figures with long, brown curly hair often get a second look or even a U-turn if I'm driving. Young men playing guitar for spare change. Strangers who walk a certain way on the street outside my kitchen window. It's almost subconscious now, like a sixth sense, having this radar operating. And I think all parents of missing kids must do this. I am realistic about the possibility that he is dead, but I fully believe he is more likely to be alive, living in another identity, for reasons only he and God know. And one day while I am working in my garden he will open the gate and say, 'Mom, it's me, Peter'."

I sincerely hope you are right, Mrs. McColl. God bless you in your search.

Anybody who likes Whitman is a friend of mine.

Link to story on Peter McColl, who has been missing for 15 years.

There is nothing that breaks my heart more than a parent looking for a missing child.


Anonymous said...

OMG this just broke my heart...I hope he does just that for her...

Sarcastic Bastard said...

Yes, it made me feel sick to read about it.

Big Mark 243 said...

So I am sitting here and this would not have been the first time I have read a journal and thought back to my recklessness as a teenager. Not that I was wont for being out at all hours, but there were days where I would leave home from school and come in 'when I came in', at 10, 11 o'clock. Not terribly late but late enough for a school night and considering my Mom prolly had not laid eyes on me since she saw me walk out the door that morning...

I have a deepening appreciation each time I read something like this for my Mother. I think now what a horrible child I must have been to put her through this kind of agony. We had the cat in Oakland County snatching kids and shortly thereafter little black kids would go missing in Atlanta. By the time I was a teen, those stories were pushed to the fringes of my mind. For my Mom, who knows?? I am sure that she had to worry for her oldest son, but she held it in and only rarely let me know how troubled she was by my 'shenanigans'.

When she mentioned how she sometimes can 'hear' his voice as he comes into the house... reminded me of something my Mother once said when I finally came home from the service... how much she missed hearing the back door open and hearing me say 'How y'all feellin'' (which I am prone to do to this very day) as I came in from wherever I had been...

Oh, I think I have said enough. A heartbreaking story.

Sarcastic Bastard said...

Big Mark,
Yes, it is heartbreaking. I cannot imagine anything much worse.