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I lost one of my grandmas in April 2015 and the other one in January of this year.

Their losses are ones that I still at times struggle to comprehend. I will crave my

grandma's cooking, or think about my love of reading, or remember her picnic lunches and bamboo

fishing poles, and the pain comes sweeping back, along with the comforting memories, mingling together until I'm a mess of

tears. I'll see a pearl necklace and think about how that was both my grannies and my own favorite

gym. Or I'll remember climbing the tree in her backyard and her talking to me like I'd climbed

Mount Everest, hands cupped around her mouth asking me to be careful. And I'm right back into the

puddled mess of tears. When I spoke to the family at the center of the case this week,

we spoke extensively about how some pains don't heal.

While I will not pretend to even have a remote idea of what this family must have suffered over the

course of the last 21 years, I can empathize with losing loved ones so close to you that their loss feels like you're

left walking in utter darkness, your sense of direction temporarily misplaced. Nearly all of us can

empathize with that. Not that it makes the pain any less because it doesn't, but the loss of a grandparent

is one we expect to have to cope with within our lifetime. The loss we never expect is the loss of a

child or of a sibling. Those are pains of grief that go beyond words that can thrust us into the

dark abyss, holding us there as hope hardens to anger. Why we scream, but only hear our own echo,

the endless question. But the Ursuli family is forced to

confront even more questions. Why would someone hurt our precious son? Who could have been

responsible for his disappearance? And finally, where is he?

This is the case of Tony Ursulae Jr.

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