For 14 years, we enjoyed a bright, smiling, thoughtful, intelligent, polite boy at the heart of our family life. He was a deep thinker, sparklingly witty, with a wide range of interests he shared with us. It was difficult to fall out with Andrew, even if we agreed to disagree on a topic, as he was so gentle and likeable.
And then he vanished. For the past 14 years, we have dealt with mental health issues as a result. We have thought of him and prayed for him daily. We have distributed thousands of leaflets and posters, searched at length in various places, engaged with hundreds of journalists across every type of media to try and find out what has become of our son.
For us, time does not heal all wounds. Without any resolution to his whereabouts or fate, it feels as though we can never truly rest, never really move on with our lives in the same way. But we will always be glad to have all those years of happy memories. I recently sat with a cup of coffee on the back door step and was joined by my little Grandson (aged 2) who brought his drink and settled down right beside me. For me, that was a lovely moment, a simple, everyday, comfortable moment of companionship and love. It reminded me of this photo taken in Egypt in 2004. It is, oddly enough, of our backs, but our daughter Charlotte commented that it was a “mini-me” photo as we happened to be similarly dressed that day. I have always liked it as it makes me think of all the times we were together, not even doing much necessarily, or saying much, but just comfortable in our companionship. I miss it. We all miss it. We all miss Andrew, still. There is no equilibrium to be gained as yet at least and we still love him and want to know the answers all this time on.