Threading lives together
The Quiet Ways Amy Bradley Still Connects Us
I started half a dozen drafts trying to find the right words.
I want to keep sharing about Amy.
I want to help spread her story.
I carry so many memories of her, some joyful, some complicated. And like all memories, they soften with time. The edges blur. What once felt vivid now comes in flashes, fragments.
I remember the day I got the news
The phone rang, and I answered still half asleep. “Are you sitting down?” Mollie asked.
“I'm in bed. What's wrong?” I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The light was low in my window. I can still remember the way it fell across the floor. I knew it was early. I knew something was wrong.
Mollie was silent.
“What’s up, Mollie?” my tone was low and concerned.
Another moment of silence.
The sting of anxiety and fear rushed to my face.
“They can't find her,” she whispered.
“Who?”, I pleaded. “Mollie, who?”
“Amy. She’s missing.”
Silence.
After she disappeared, I watched the stories unfold quietly, from a distance. Mollie and I would talk when we could, sometimes for hours. But with each passing year, those conversations became harder. Life moved on, but Amy stayed frozen in time. Still, every holiday, my family asked about her. We’d sit around the table, telling stories, asking questions, theorizing, while I tried to keep her close.
Eventually, I began to feel disconnected from it all. I could sense those memories fading. Then, sometime around 2008 or 2009, Iva called. I think she just needed to talk about Amy. But I was grateful for the chance to do so. We spoke several times, and each call broke my heart. Her grief so palpable, it oozed from her soul
On the 20th anniversary of Amy’s disappearance, Mollie and I spent a weekend together. We poured drinks and let the tears come. We talked about everything…what we knew, what we still hoped, and what we feared we’d never learn. We did it quietly and lovingly, over a bottle of bourbon. We also swapped stories, many stories. But one of them was the time we met.
It was just after Amy and I split and Mollie and Amy were now dating. Mollie came to Longwood for the weekend Amy and I shared a dorm room. That meant we spent a weekend sharing space. It was awkward but Amy introduced me to Mollie and she remains one of my closest friends.
When I was asked to participate in the documentary and the book, I hesitated. We didn’t all have the same memories of her, we didn’t all agree on what happened, or what followed her disappearance, so I expected anger and frustration.
I expected the worst.
But I kept coming back to one thought: Amy would love this!
We all agreed!
What I didn’t expect was how much it would reconnect us. It brought old friends back into my life. It deepened my bond with Mollie. And surprisingly not just those that knew her. So many people are connecting through Amy’s story.
It felt like Amy was still doing what she always did best, bringing people together.
Since the show aired, I’ve received message after message. People who want to know more about Amy. Friends I haven’t spoken to in years. Strangers who want to share their thoughts, experiences, and memories of Amy. It’s been overwhelming in the best way. And it makes me wonder…
Maybe Amy is still pulling us together.
Maybe this is her way of showing up.
Connection was her thing.
And this? This is exactly her style.
I see her fingerprints all over it.
When I close my eyes, I can picture her smile… mischievous, radiant, filled with light, love, and warmth.
My hope is to continue sharing her story, raising awareness, and helping bring in new leads.
Amy deserves to be seen. She deserves answers.
And I think she’d love knowing that, even now, she’s still bringing people together.
If you have a story about Amy, a memory, or a lead please share them.
Every voice matters.
Every connection counts.