It has been four years since my husband, Jason, disappeared during a solo hike. My life has changed drastically, but I have found a way to move forward for the sake of my two children. However, everything changed when our old family dog, Scout, suddenly reappeared with Jason’s jacket in its mouth.
I followed Scout into the forest and uncovered a truth that I never could have imagined. I still remember the day Jason left like it was yesterday. He had been battling a quiet depression for months and that morning, he seemed different, filled with an almost manic energy.
“I need to clear my head,” he said, packing his hiking bag. “Just me and Scout. I’ll be back before you know it.”
I offered to go with him, but he declined, saying he needed to do this alone. That was the last time we saw him.
At first, I thought he had gotten lost or injured. We searched for him tirelessly, but as days turned into weeks, hope began to fade. Eventually, he was declared legally dead, and I was left to raise our children on my own.
Jason’s memory lingered in small ways, like his hiking boots by the door or his chipped coffee mug. I would often tell my children stories about their father, making him a hero in their young eyes. Late at night, I would wonder if I could have done something to stop him from leaving.