I Received 17 Calls From My Late Daughter’s Number at 3 A.M.
I woke to seventeen missed calls and a terrifying text:
“Dad, help! Come fast!”
The number belonged to Helen, my youngest daughter, who had died in a car accident a year earlier.
When I called back, a frightened young woman answered. Her car had broken down, and she was trying to reach her father using his old number—the one that once belonged to Helen.
I stayed on the phone until help arrived, then cried until sunrise.
For a few moments, it felt like Helen had found a way to remind me that love never truly disappears.
