Happy Thanksgiving Canada
Here is a photo from Thanksgiving 31-years-ago:
This was taken three week's before Theresa died. The media often use this photo, and confuse it; that is not me sitting next to Theresa, but my brother, Andre.
A few things catch me attention in this photo. I took the picture. I can tell because my dinner is sitting to the bottom, left. My father's place is empty, which means he was in the kitchen with my mother (always serve the children first). I know it's Thanksgiving because not only is there white wine, it is served in our best crystal (however I also appear to have a glass of milk). In Patricia Pearson's piece, Who Killed Theresa? she mentions an incident that happened later, after Theresa had disappeared; a piece of plaster fell from a spot in the ceiling in the shape of a heart. That spot is just above Andre's right shoulder (photo left). I still have that plaster, preserved by my mother and given to me when they sold the house. The following morning my brother and sister would board a train back to college, from Saint John to Sherbrooke, Quebec, and that was the last I ever saw of Theresa Allore.
Yes, all this is gone now. The house was sold last year. Frankly it's getting harder for me to remember any of this. Little pieces are fading, and all that is left is a distant flash of brilliant white light.