‘Michael?’

My throat is dry. I stare at the phone in my hand. The screen reads ‘unknown number’ but I’d know that voice anywhere. My mind is flailing. Heart palpitating.

‘Michael, can you hear me?’

Yes, my brain screams, but my mouth refuses to form the word. I feel a numbing cold trickle down my spine. I’m very far away now, I can see the backs of my eyes in the distance, my mouth, if I could only reach them.

The voice crackles in my hand again

‘Michael, I don’t have a lot of time but I had to speak to you’

‘I’m here’

A small, rasping voice. It takes me a moment to realise it’s my own. I gingerly ease back into my head. I wiggle my toes, take a deep shuddering breath and put the phone back to my ear.

‘I’m here’ I repeat ‘I don’t understand, but I’m listening’

‘I didn’t think this line would work. I don’t think

I’m supposed to call’

‘It’s ok’ I say. The ice in my spine begins to melt as hot tears spill down my cheeks. I fix my eyes on the mantelpiece. I try to keep my voice steady. ‘Are you safe?’

‘I’m safe. I love you very much. It’s good to hear your voice, Michael’

I nod, despite myself. ‘What’s it like... where you are?’ A question I don’t know if I want the answer to. There was a small pause.

‘It’s like everything I could have ever dreamed, and like nothing I could have ever imagined’

Again I nod. It’s pointless but I can’t find the words.

‘Michael?’

‘Yes?’

‘I think I have to go now. But it doesn’t hurt. I wanted you to know that it doesn’t hurt anymore. You don’t need to worry’

‘Ok’. The lump in my throat is fit to burst.

‘Mum?’

I’m shaking, my body crumbling under the tide of tears.

‘I love you’

There’s silence. I look at my screen. It’s blank.

I look back at the mantelpiece. At the urn that’s been sat there for two weeks. I didn’t know what to do with it after the funeral.

I still don’t.