The Voice Mail That Came Back

Chapter 1: Struggle Life

I was 15 years old when my dad died.

Even now, years later, I still remember that age more than anything else. Fifteen is supposed to be a time when you are worried about school, friends, and figuring out who you are. You are supposed to believe your parents will always be there somewhere in the background, ready to answer the phone or pick you up when you need them.

I never imagined I would lose my dad that young.

My dad struggled with things I didn’t fully understand at the time. There were parts of his life that he kept hidden from me, parts that I only learned about later. But no matter what happened, he was still my dad. He was the person who taught me little things, who showed up when he could, and who made me feel loved in ways that mattered.

A few days before he died, he called me.

It wasn’t some dramatic conversation. There wasn’t a goodbye speech or anything that felt like a final moment. It was just a normal call, the kind of ordinary conversation you never realize you’ll remember forever.

He wanted to make sure I still needed a ride somewhere.

That was it.

He was just checking if I needed him.

Before hanging up, he told me he loved me.