It’s been 47 years, and there’s still thousands of families who, to this day, do not know what happened to their loved ones.
Mothers and fathers who died of elderly age and sadness in the 90s, 00s and 10s, praying for at least a scrap of the clothes their children were wearing the day they disappeared, a lock of hair, a tooth… Something, so they could bury as much as that. So they could at least have a stone to cry on.
There’s records of teenagers as young as 14 among the disappeared.
Children left orphaned, now beyond middle aged, who keep running into the men who tortured and executed their parents, as they walk around their neighborhoods, as if nothing ever happened. Elderly men who get to live in peaceful retirement despite the crimes they committed, while their parents had their lives stolen from them, being thrown in bags, still alive, into the ocean from helicopters, after having been tortured.
Wives, husbands, siblings, friends and lovers with many similar stories to tell, if they have enough strength in them to tell them at all.
People who were arrested and tortured alongside loved ones, who were lucky to be released after weeks, months or more of military torture, but whose loved ones they went with were not, and they never saw them again. People living with an undeserved guilt that they survived, but their loved ones did not.
Children who were never born despite being loved and expected, because their mothers were taken while they still carried them, and suffered the same fate as everyone else. Fathers who lost both their lovers and unborn children at once.
And thousands of bodies crying from the ocean, from the desert, from Los Andes, from military bases. Waiting to be found, waiting to be named.
annaxmalina
titsay
yousharknotpass
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
blakekathryn
baratheonpilled
