Her kids won’t be able to resist believing she’s out there somewhere at least not for the time being. The first stage of grief is denial, even in a face of overwhelming evidence. Denial happens to the best of us.
In this case, maybe she has survived relatively unharmed. We can continue to hold onto that hope. For now.
I'm not even sure the grief phase would ever set in if someone goes missing and isn't found. A better word to use here is
rationalization, which all of us would likely do until we had a definitive answer or we pass away ourselves. With no answers and no person to physically see deceased (or have a doctor see and declare them deceased), the mind will always insist that there is a chance. That she is still out there.
Somehow. Some way.
"Maybe she is here. Maybe she is there. Maybe they dropped her off somewhere and she can't remember her name. I hope she isn't lonely wherever she is. I hope she isn't afraid. I hope someone is taking care of her."
I cannot
fathom my own mother disappearing without a trace. The lady who birthed me, raised me, prepared me for the world. The person I've literally spent
the most time with my whole life. More than my spouse. More than my kids.
And then the sudden, excruciating
panic of remembering that she is gone. Must feel like being hit by a bus. Over and over again.
"A man in a mask took her. I just looked at her last post on Facebook again. I just went through the facts of the case again. I just called the sheriff's office again."
But she is gone. Into. Thin. Air.
There is no amount of therapy that can heal that void. Nothing short of discovery could ever reconcile those unyielding ruminations.
I pray they find her soon.
JMO.