Homegrown

By Stephanie Stevens

Mother’s Day is coming up again.

For most of us, it is a time for celebrating our moms, being thankful for being a mom, that sort of thing.

Several years ago, however, Mother’s Day became another reminder for me.

A reminder of a girl I never knew, a girl gone but not forgotten. You disappeared on Mother’s Day, more than 50 years ago.

I never met you Brenda. You were gone long before I was born. I never had a chance to see you smile, hear you laugh, or have a cup of tea with you.

Your brother came to my office years ago, looking tired and careworn, asking if I would consider writing about the disappearance of his sister decades ago.

You had gone to a neighbour’s house. You were never seen again.

And it bothers me.

Every time I go past your grandmother’s old house, every time I drive near the field you were last reported seen in.

I have spoken with your mother, your sisters and brother, people who knew you. I have walked the path you were said to have taken.

I have seen your photograph. It is in my office.

Your face haunts me.

All your family wants is to know, with certainty, if you are really, truly gone.

That tiny glimmer of hope was still in your mother’s eyes when I spoke with her. That you really did run off, that you did get into some car, that you lived a full life somewhere else.

But the chances of that are slim.

More likely your bones rest, somewhere in this valley.

Just a chance to say goodbye, to have some closure. I wish I could give your family that.

There have been theories; stories, some that have been refuted, changed, or just lost. Accusations, feuds, fears and anger.

To this day, your family mourns. To this day they just want to know.

And so do I.

The only thing I am sure of, the only thing, is someone knows exactly where you are.

– Twelve-year-old Brenda Byman disappeared from Wilmer, BC, on May 7, 1961. No trace of her was ever found. Her case is still open.

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