The voice at the other end

“hello” the voice at the other end said. It didn’t resemble any note of what remained in my memory as his voice. We haven’t been in touch so he didn’t obviously recognise my number or my voice.

“Hey Its me” I broke off, there not knowing how to continue this conversation. Was I to sound grim having the context in mind or should I attempt to steer clear from that memory.

“How you doing’ I asked, I knew he knew it then - why I had called. It immediately put him on guard, he had been fending off many like me in the past few months.

So the conversation continued with some pleasantries, till the time came to say why I had called. So I continued because this had to be said..”I heard about your daughter”, I stopped wanting to sense what he felt. But maybe he had mastered the art of wearing a mask for situations like this.

So I continued, letting him know that I only genuinely wanted him to know that he and his family will be in my prayers. “How did it happen?”, “when did this happen?” I left all of that for a later date, if ever.

Today was for him just to know, that maybe another person was praying for him too, that someone else was willing to do a deal with God to ease him off some pain.

So the call ended as abruptly as it started. My ordeal continued – that night as I watch my daughter sleep (who coincidentally is the same age as his) I often cast myself in his role and wept.

Even just the thought made me feel so empty inside. I felt like there was nothing inside me, just a vacuum waiting to be filled – I reached out to my daughter, held her closer, held her tighter wanting to fill my senses with her smell, her sleepy noises…I didn’t want to leave.

But not everyone has that choice…and that moment to leave is the toughest. Because that instant changes the present to the past, every touch to a memory, every smile looks more distant.

If you ever happen to read this I want you to know I am praying “May her soul rest in peace and may you soon find yours too”.