My mom went out to get some milk 8 years ago, and never came back.

So… I know this sounds crazy. But hear me out. I didn’t want to believe it either, and I still don’t. I think there must have been a mistake, a misunderstanding. I just don’t know how to find my mom or make it right. Do I even call the police? The problem is they won’t believe me either. They’ll just say, “But your dad is right there, you’re safe now. You’re just upset, and confused, and you’re not used to being out on your own, I know, but that’s okay! Everything will work itself out in the end, you just have to wait a little while longer.” I’ve heard it enough to recognize what their words really mean: “Oh no! He’s talking about his mother again… poor child. We have to tell him everything is going to be okay, no matter how ridiculous it sounds.”<br><br>I’m not stupid or childish, though. I know I’m not used to going out in public. But this isn’t about that. I have a mother. I know I do! And the only thing that makes me think I might be going crazy is that my father has never mentioned her. He always just kind of sidesteps talking about her but never says anything bad. So I love him for that. Even if it means I have no choice but to keep this secret to myself.<br><br>I was only 6-years-old back then and can’t really remember anything of my life before moving in with my newly-widowed father, but he always said that wasn’t a bad thing. I imagine he was right because I don’t know how awful it must be to remember watching your mother die. I bet it must be the worst thing in the world. So I was better off not remembering anything, he said. He used to always say that, until I started asking questions about her. Then he would change the subject. <br><br>It was hard to adjust at first, growing up alone in my room. It was so big and beautiful, I didn’t know how to keep it clean or even what I was supposed to do with so many beds. My father was always busy and didn’t have time to show me, he was very anxious about it, but he said he had to be. I didn’t understand why but I didn’t have to. He brought me food whenever I asked and let me watch as many cartoons as I wanted. My dad was a good dad! I just had to learn how to be a good son in return. <br><br>So I did my best to stay out of the way and care for myself. I turned out to be very good at it, too. I made sure to only leave my room at night when he wasn’t around, so he didn’t think I was being intrusive or ungrateful. I was grateful for a home, even if it wasn’t my real one; I was just a little boy, I didn’t know how to take care of myself. <br><br>I spent most of my time watching old VHS tapes and playing on the personal computer in my bedroom that my dad bought for me. I called it my magic window, because it showed me the world outside these mansion walls. I met other kids my age in chat rooms and they would always make fun of me for talking about how big and nice my room was. They didn’t believe me and said I was lying, trying to sound cooler than I was. But I wasn’t. It really was as nice as I said it was, and I don’t see how anyone could think that was something to be made fun of. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed chatting with my window friends and it was nice to have people to talk to. But they didn’t understand what it felt like to have to keep secrets from everyone.<br><br>One night I realized I was really hungry, but I didn’t want to bother my father so I decided to go look for something to eat on my own. It was scary at first, but I got braver and found something really interesting. There was a book in one of the rooms with my name on it. I wondered if my father had written it, since he sometimes wrote me stories and even plays that I would put on by myself. This one was called “Second Honeymoon” and I didn’t remember him ever giving it to me. I decided to bring it back to my room and read it. It was the best story he had ever told! It was so amazing and that’s what made it so sad too. See, in this book he wrote about how him and my mom had lived in this house, right where we lived now. It was our honeymoon, he called it. They fell more and more in love with each other every day and were so happy together. But one day she left him. She told him she was going out to buy milk and she never came back. <br><br>My father spent years looking for her, even though everyone had given up. He just couldn’t stand living without her. Thinking about it still makes me sad, and my father knows it too. So he doesn’t like to talk about it. I feel bad even asking, because it makes him so upset. So I made the decision on my own to keep looking for her. I am his son, it’s my job to make him happy again. After all, I’m not the boy in that story. That’s not my life. My life is now, and my father is the one missing my mom. He’s the tragic character; I don’t have a mother to lose. I’ll prove it to myself. I’ll prove it to everyone. <br><br>I won’t give up looking for her, no matter how long it takes. I have nothing else to do with my time here anyway, while I’m waiting to grow up and move out. I’ll just have to try harder and show them how serious I am. I won’t let them think I’m a childish boy playing at being a detective. I’ll find out where she went, she’s still out there. I know she’s still out there, because she is my mother, and she wouldn’t do this to me or my father. Buying milk can’t take that long, and she knows how much we need it.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>[EDIT:] Hey guys, I didn’t expect so much attention so fast. I am reading through all of your comments and taking your advice into consideration. Thank you all so much. I’ll post an update when I can.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>[EDIT 2:] I am back to post my first and last update. I am overwhelmed by all of the support and messages I have received, and I really don’t even know how to respond except to say thank you, and to say that if you’re doing this sort of thing for other posts, you are very kind and I appreciate it. I am going to remove all of my comments from this discussion, and I will not be posting again. This account was a throwaway, and I have no intention of using it again. I feel I have been given a lot of good advice on what to do next, and I am going to take it. Thank you all so much. I am so grateful for the internet and the people on it. I hope anyone reading this has a similar experience.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>[EDIT 3:] I see a lot of people asking why I didn’t ask my dad about the book or ask about my mother in the real world before coming here. I don’t know. It’s not something people really think about logically when they’re going through a situation like this, which I realize now. For me, it just seemed like my only option was coming here and getting advice. I didn’t know who else I could ask. <br><br>I did not discuss this with my father. As some of you guessed, he is not my biological father and I know that much. I also know that my real parents are divorced. I have no information about my real father, but my mother was married to him (my dad) when I was born. So he is my legal guardian and has been for as long as I can remember, but he is not my real father. I don’t remember much, but I remember him being upset about it and telling me that even though he wasn’t my real dad, he would always be my father. He’s not a bad man, just a bit strange, so he doesn’t like to talk about the past. Like I said, I don’t want to paint him in a bad light, and I don’t want to blame him for anything. He’s done nothing wrong except not tell me the truth. <br><br>I don’t know how I got to where I am now, or who the people were that brought me here, or if I was brought here as a punishment or a reward. I don’t know what my life was like before. I don’t know if my mother is still out there, buying milk. I don’t know anything about myself except that I have a good, kind father and I live in a really nice house. I don’t know if I should be grateful or not, and I will probably never know. But I’m not going to stop trying to find out until I do, because that’s what it means to be a son.