“The Call I Never Answered: A Lesson I Learned Too Late”
“ Some calls don’t come twice .” The phone rang at 2:17 a.m. I stared at the screen, half-asleep, half-annoyed. Who calls at this hour? I let it ring. Five minutes later, it rang again. This time, my chest felt heavy — the kind of weight your body notices before your mind does. It was my mother. Her voice was calm. Too calm. “He’s gone,” she said. I sat up. Gone where? Silence filled the room and refused to leave. My father had passed away. And I had missed his last call. The Morning I Didn’t Call Back Three hours earlier, I had been laughing. Dinner with friends. Loud music. Life happening. My phone buzzed once. I saw his name: Papa calling . I smiled. “I’ll call him back later,” I thought. I didn’t. There’s a strange confidence we carry — the belief that there will always be a next time. Coming Home to Absence I flew home by morning. The house smelled the same. His shoes were still by the door. Everything was untouched. Except him. My mother hande...