He spoke at vigils, begging for any new leads. Each time, his voice cracked with grief and hope. Years passed, and tips slowed to a trickle. But he refused to give in to despair.
His health began to decline in recent months. Yet he still kept a packed bag by the door—just in case.
Friends say his final wish was heartbreakingly simple. “To know where she is. That’s all I want.”
He died quietly in his sleep, surrounded by photos. A framed picture of his daughter rested on his chest.
The community held a small memorial for him. Candles flickered beside a stuffed bear and pink flowers. One mourner whispered, “He never stopped being her dad.” Another added, “Now maybe they’re together.”
