Mom still keeps Dad’s old phone.
Not because she needs it.
Mostly for the games.
Dad carried that phone for years. It lived in his pocket through doctor visits, family dinners, holidays, and all the ordinary moments that become priceless after someone is gone. After leukemia took him, throwing it away felt impossible.
So she kept it.
A couple of weeks ago, she was sitting in her chair playing one of her usual games.
When she finished, she set the phone beside her and reached to turn it off.
Before her hand touched the screen, a song started playing.
Roy Clark’s Yesterday When I Was Young.
A song about how fast life moves. About how the years disappear while we’re busy living them. About looking back and wishing we had held onto the little moments a little longer.
Mom just sat there and listened as it played from Dad’s phone.
Neither of us knows how it started.
Maybe it was nothing more than a glitch.
But when someone you love is gone, sometimes a glitch can feel an awful lot like a hello.
If this resonated with you, you’re not alone.
