There are some words that you cannot take back.

They are like little particles of destruction that hover all around you waiting to implode at the slightest movement.

They say the truth will set you free.

Whose truth? Yours? It is not as simple as that, I think. There are versions of truth. Perceptions of what the truth is. And truth can be subjective.

Our capacity for truth telling sometimes, will give little consideration to another. “That dress is too tight. You look awful.” But it’s the truth you argue. Isn’t it better that they should know from someone who loves them?

But your words are as you see them. Based on your life experiences and your value system. Not necessarily how others might view them. Not even how that person might see themselves.

I remember telling Ryan that I can tell he was lying just by looking at his teeth. They turn colors based on the lies he might tell. In his defense, he was 3. Imagine this sweet boy covering his mouth so I couldn’t look in. A beautiful lie designed to garner the truth. Ironic no?

There are black and whites certainly. Truths that no matter how you wish to package them up in pretty bows and beautiful boxes remain concrete and absolute. And sometimes you will be given the gravest of responsibilities to be the bearer of the truth.

Perhaps then you can think about being kind. If the truth is inescapable then the gift is in the delivery.

The truth is I am not 100 percent sure what happened to Ryan on February 17th. Maybe that truth will forever elude me. But I know what I believe. For me, belief is not just a stretch of imagination or leap of faith. It is based on the strong knowledge of my son and his character. It comes from living and breathing this experience each day since. It is bolstered by what I know from the RCMP. So the question “Do you REALLY believe he is still on the hill?” is tactless to me. Would Scott and I stay at Sun Peaks for 3 months and counting if we thought otherwise? Would we search day in and day out? Would we welcome our friends and family as they continually put theirs lives on hold to travel here to help us? Would we allow our daughters to grieve without us each week as we stay here? Would we ask volunteers to drive such lengths over and over if we believed it was futile?

How extraordinarily selfish we would be.

The truth is, we are exhausted. A tiredness that seeps into our bones and places an icy grip on our souls.

The truth is, we question if we have done enough in our search efforts.

The truth is, we hold the RCMP accountable for investigating our son’s disappearance. And they have consistently delivered.

The truth is, the time is drawing ever closer to us having to go home.

The truth will forever be, we will never give up.

Our truth is that we believe.