Welcome back to my favorite day of the week. Allison and I want to thank you so much for spending time listening to our podcast each week. If you're new to coffee in cases, welcome to the show. We hope you love listening to the stories we share as much as we love sharing them with you. This week, I want to challenge you to make yourself a priority. I feel like over the past year I've lost some of myself. I seem to never have enough time to read or enough time to exercise. There's just not enough time in my day. It's like the day's gone before it really starts. I know a lot of you probably feel the same way. So while we are still living in the crazy COVID world, I want you to not forget about yourself. You're important and you're loved. So make time to read the book that you just got in the mail, even if it's the new Twilight book, which is what mine is. Don't judge. Put some air in those bike tires and burn some calories when you bike around town. I think right now we're so focused on giving to others, giving our talents to someone else, giving our time to someone

else, that we forget to give to ourselves. Allison and I want to thank you for being an outlet

for us, for being that escape that we need each week. Your support and love remind us that

some things are good in the world still. So please continue to listen, to share, to reach out, and to show your support.

Until everything can return to normal, take care of yourselves.

Please don't lose faith, continue to love one another, and to know with each other, and to know

that with each other, we'll get through this, even if I can't say everything correctly.

So stay together, sleuth hounds, and stay safe.

Now on to this week's episode. We hear stories every single day, a people disappearing,

simply vanishing, but I think most of us anyways would go through life thinking, oh, that can

never happen to me or never to my child. But when a person disappears,

that is someone, and that is someone's child. So a family's left searching. Death is its own

beast we struggle to understand. We take comfort in thinking of the long life lived or the

accomplishments achieved. We find ourselves thinking, oh, he had such a wonderful life, or she accomplished so much

in her short time with us.

When someone disappears, those tiny words of comfort, we whisper to ourselves.

When coping with death, they mean nothing.

There's no solace found in those empty words.

When there's so much left for someone to give and they're suddenly gone, we try to wrap our heads around the empty space and we try to

patch our broken hearts, but the holes keep opening back up every time we think of what could

have been. It seems a little bit harder when someone who's young disappears. We think of

the life they could have had. We think of the promises we saw in them of great things to come.

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