At 3 a.m., I woke to seventeen missed calls and a terrifying message from “my daughter,” sending me racing to her house, only to discover the number belonged to my late daughter Helen.
Helen had died in a car accident the year before at just nineteen, and seeing her old number appear on my phone left both my daughter and me shaken.
When I called back, a frightened young woman answered, explaining that she was stranded after her car broke down and had mistakenly reached me because the number once saved as “Dad” now belonged to me.
I stayed with her until help arrived, then cried until sunrise, realizing that although Helen was gone, the love and memories she left behind could still find unexpected ways to touch my life.