I’ve been obsessed with finding the missing lately. All the podcasts dealing with the missing are queued up on my device. Recently I listening to the CBC podcast, Finding Cleo with Connie Walker. It was heartbreaking but so real. We should be all made to listen to the terrible tragedies that have happened to the indigenous people of Canada. Governments we elected have done wrong. Police agencies fail these people daily.
So one day I was on another missing persons site and a little face on a missing poster staring back that me connected with something inside of me. Compelling me to look further. She had a name Diane Lee Todd, 18 years old.
With little information to go on I search around a bit more and find out what she was wearing when she went missing.
No other picture is available and when I searched ancestry there was a birth but nothing else. I searched year books from schools around Annandale. No other photos have been found.
It struck me as sad that a young girl could disappear and there’s no activity ongoing to find out what happened to her. No pleas from parents or newspaper articles at the time talking about her disappearance. I searched Jane doe sites looking for a possible match and came across this reconstructed skull.
Her bone structure is similar. So many things are missing. This skull had to teeth, so no evidence of braces.
I reached out to some podcaster a and websleuth’s online forum and posted both pictures there.
Anyone have any more ideas?
By Dawn Illsley
We marched like dead souls,
Through hallways, not stopping.
Like the end was our fate.
I feel the shame,
We quietly weeped,
As we shuffled upstairs,
It’s still, silence I heard,
On that ghostly trek.
My life faded away,
I was stuck there in that place,
Time took a break.
Those little rooms,
The walls paper thin like a dolls house.
Why is it,
Words pour out,
When tears are flowing.
I saw a pile of shoes
They didn’t need anymore.
Telling a story
Of life never led.
A pile of shoes,
In someone’s porch,
makes me think,
Of that day in May.
The deafening silence.
That I witnessed.
The life that was erased.
(Visiting the Anne Frank Museum)
Drenched in sorrow
Drenched in sorrow she sits,
Head bowed, in a silent prayer,
To someone she doesn’t believe in,
About something she doesn’t understand
The Hum by Dawn Illsley
I want to be in a place busy with the hum of voices.
Voices confabulating, words I can’t decipher.
Not here in the quiet.
My brain is free to wander,
Free to play the broken record of thoughts.
Ruminating in a stew of self doubt and words left unsaid
The Tall Ships arrived!!!!!
Look at all I accomplished this week and I loved every minute of it!!!
Another wonderful day…
The Tall Ships are coming!!! The Bluenose was there when I drove in this AM. We had a chance to perch ourselves on top of Black Rock. Birds eye view. Lucky birds. 350 year old graffiti up here, a French solider carved "Louis" into the rock.