In church on Sunday, we as a congregation prayed for the family and friends of a local man, Kyle Bender, who went missing in December.
During the prayer, I broke down in tears.
I realized, "I know how they feel." Not entirely, no one ever does, but on many levels, I do.
In 1994, when I was 10, my 2 year-old cousin went missing for a few days. She was found in the river on her farm after following her puppy down the hill.
Even though I was young, I know the torment of the lost loved one. Granted, Carissa was only missing a few days, but missing is missing, and though I was young, I can feel that pain again, still. It's something I thought I had "gotten over," but now I realize, you never do. Sure, it doesn't haunt me in my dreams like it used to, but the pain is there. It's not debilitating as it was. Now, I just use it to relate, for the most part. Meaning, I just know how they feel.
My prayers are with anyone out there who has dealt with this, is dealing with it, or will deal with it someday.