The poet Charles Bukowski wrote: "There is a place in the heart that - will never be filled - a space - and even during the - best moments - and - the greatest times - times - we will know it - we will know it - more than - ever."
These words are reminiscent of the loss of a loved one, the kind of pain that even during the most euphoric of times, is somehow omnipresent.
It seems unfathomable to imagine how much bigger that "space" must be when you have no idea what happened.
When one day someone just vanishes…
Six years ago, Jón Jónsson disappeared in Dublin while at a poker festival with his partner Kristiana Guðjónsdóttir.
He was last seen exiting the Bonnington Hotel, and walking down the main Swords road.
That is the last time anyone in his family has seen or heard from him. He left his clothes, passport, wallet and phone in his hotel room.
For the last 18 months, RTÉ's Documentary on One and RÚV, the public service broadcaster in Iceland, have been working on a podcast series - Where is Jón? - in the hopes of bringing Mr Jónsson home.
The six-part series was made with the full cooperation of the Jónsson family. It includes interviews with new sources, fresh evidence that has never been made public and insights into who Mr Jónsson really was beyond the headlines.
For more, keep reading, but if you’re already convinced, hit play on the first two episodes now.
Missing Person
Kristiana Guðjónsdóttir assumed her partner had gone out for food or to play poker when he did not return to their hotel room.
She continued texting and calling him, but his phone was off. She had no idea it was still in their hotel room and that he would never return.
Ms Guðjónsdóttir gave the podcast complete access to the couple's final text messages.
At 6pm, she went to the front desk with his picture. It had been seven hours since she saw Mr Jónsson, and she knew something was wrong.
She eventually went back to their bedroom and started calling his best friend, his brother, anyone he may have contacted.
But nobody had heard a word.
She returned to the reception desk at midnight and was told there was no point contacting the police until 24 hours had elapsed.
The next morning, she walked to Santry garda station, to file a missing person’s report.
On her walk back to the Bonnington hotel, she received a call.
It was from An Garda Síochána, and their words, I have no doubt, will shock any listener and concerned citizen.
Well, if you see this, you've probably already seen the note, but I'm on the way to the police station. I can't do this anymore and I will always regret not having gone there if anything has happened to you
- text message to Jón Jónsson from Kristiana Guðjónsdóttir
Family Man
Mr Jónsson’s poker name was Jón Bondi or Jón the farmer in honour of his farming background. His father’s family owned a farm a two-hour drive north of Reykjavík.
Mr Jónsson’s siblings all contributed to the series, his sister Þórunn described him as the "golden boy of the family."
Born on 30 October 1977, his mother said he was a funny, calm child.
By 1982, they had three children together, including Mr Jónsson’s youngest sister Anna Hilder.
In the early years of his life, the family lived on his grandparent's farm, but his father’s drinking led to tension, and his parents divorced after ten years.
After the divorce, the children lived mostly with their mother in Reykjavik but visited their grandparent's farm during holidays. His mother later remarried and gave birth to Mr Jónsson’s half brothers, David, Karl, Willem and Daniel Willem.
In the 1990s, Mr Jónsson’s Uncle took over the family farm, but in 1993, the farmhouse burnt down.
That same year, Mr Jónsson decided to put his love of farming to the test and try to become a vet.
According to his mother, Hanna Björk, the 15-year-old narrowly missed out on the grades to attend the required school.
Despite his disappointment, she said he just gave up.
The question is, does this reaction offer any insight into what might have happened to him in Dublin decades later?
It was nothing else. He was like, this is it, you know. And he was like that. He quit
- Hanna Björk, mother
Nina
In Mr Jónsson’s late adolescence, he fell in love with a young woman called Nina. They rented a small flat where they lived with their two cats. His sisters described Nina as being like a "mother" to his siblings.
By their early twenties, the couple were married, but after two kids and many moves, one of which plays into this podcast, they decided to divorce.
Nina has never before spoken publicly about Mr Jónsson’s disappearance - until now.
The image of Mr Jónsson when he went missing outside the Bonnington Hotel is of a poker player who had tattoos and liked a drink - a tough guy.
But in reality, his family and former wife said he was a caretaker from day one.
"He was so calm, and I was a little bit more butterfly. So we just clicked. He was my security," Nina told the series producers.
Jón was so kind to everyone. He was just, that was his personality. And with his brothers, they were just so close. Their parents had split up and yeah, I think we were their safety. They just loved him
- Nina, former wife
Jón the Farmer
While in their early twenties, Mr Jónsson and Nina decided to move up to the Jónsson family farm. The couple rented the property from Mr Jónsson’s grandparents.
This opportunity came about because once more, tragedy struck the family. The wife of Mr Jónsson’s Uncle died by suicide on the farm, and he decided to stop farming and let someone new take over.
Mr Jónsson adored the farm. He built up a flock of Icelandic sheep, added new machinery and brought a new approach to the family business.
His ex-wife Nina told the podcast he wanted to "be there forever," but sadly, another one of his dreams abruptly came to a halt.
After two years, Mr Jónsson wanted to take over the farm permanently, but his grandfather, and paternal family could not agree on the matter.
Almost overnight, Mr Jónsson sold the farm machinery, sent his sheep to slaughter, and left.
It is unclear what the fallout was about, but the family still finds it too painful to revisit.
After this incident, he never spoke to the paternal side of his family again, including his father.
No, I cannot talk about it. It was dark. And I think it affected him a lot, very badly. Because, as I say, that was his dream. He was very loyal. And if someone treated him bad, he never forget it
- Hanna Björk, Mother
Fathers and Sons
For 26 years, Mr Jónsson had a tight-knit bond with his father, but when he left the family farm, that all came to an end.
By the time Mr Jónsson disappeared, they had not spoken in 15 years.
Time moved swiftly along, Mr Jónsson’s Grandfather died, and after 140 years, the family sold the farm.
It seemed after Mr Jónsson left, nobody wanted it.
Mr Jónsson’s father, Jón Ingimundur Jónsson, has never spoken publicly, not to the press or the authorities, until now.
He said he still identified with his son, and believed Mr Jónsson may have run away to start a new life.
He did not go to Dublin to look for his son. He said he worried he might be in the way.
When you have one time being in a bad situation, like he was on the farm, and you have to take a bad decision like he did there, and even that bad, you stop talking to half of your family. What will you do next time you are in a bad situation?
- Jón Ingimundur Jónsson, father
If you have any knowledge or information on the disappearance of Jón Jonsson, please contact us immediately and in confidence via documentaries@rte.ie
Þú getur líka sent okkur línu á hvarerjon@ruv.is
You can also send us anonymous information or tips via a link on our website
