Grief can distort reality, but this? This was different. Kelly knew her husband’s voice like her own, and now she was hearing it… coming from her daughter’s room. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Jeremy had been gone for two years. So who—or what—was using his voice? She stepped inside… and froze.
I’m Kelly. I’m 30, and my life has been full of love, loss, and unimaginable pain. Two years ago, my husband, Jeremy, died in a car accident when I was eight months pregnant with our daughter, Sophia. One moment, I was painting flowers on her nursery walls, dreaming of our future together. The next, I was receiving a phone call that would shatter everything.
I can still remember that moment so vividly. The paintbrush slipped from my hand, leaving a streak of pink across the wall. “Miss Kelly?” The voice on the phone was soft, calm, almost robotic. “This is Officer Reynolds…”
“Yes?” I instinctively placed my hand on my belly. Sophia kicked, as if sensing the tension in my voice.
“There’s been an accident. Your husband…” “No,” I whispered. “No, please…”
They told me the crash was severe—so severe I shouldn’t even see his body. I never got to say goodbye. Just a closed casket at the funeral.
At the funeral, my mother held me as I wept. “You have to stay strong, Kelly. For the baby.” “How?” I choked out. “How do I do this without him? He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to hold her…”
Two years later, I was still doing my best to move forward, to be strong for Sophia. But that empty space? It never really went away.
Then, two days ago, something happened that made me question everything.
It was a typical afternoon. I had just put Sophia down for her nap and settled on the couch with a book. The house was quiet. Peaceful.
Until I heard it.
The soft sound of a window closing. Not loud—just enough to make me look up. Probably the wind, I thought. But then, my blood ran cold when I… Oh my God… when I heard JEREMY’S VOICE:
I swear to you, my entire body went cold. It wasn’t some fading memory in my mind. It wasn’t a wishful thought. It was CLEAR as day.
I sat frozen, unable to breathe. My ears were ringing. My heart was pounding so loudly I thought it might explode.
“Jeremy?” I whispered into the silence, my voice shaky. “Baby, is that you?”
No. No, no, no. Jeremy was gone. This couldn’t be happening.
But I heard it again. “I love you forever.”
It was coming from Sophia’s room.
I jumped up so quickly, the book falling to the floor. My mind raced with possibilities—was someone in there? Was I imagining things? Was Jeremy alive?
I rushed down the hall, barely feeling my feet hit the floor. My hands were cold as ice, and my stomach twisted with panic.
“Please,” I whispered as I ran, tears already stinging my eyes. “Please, if you’re there…”
I opened Sophia’s door.
She was sound asleep in her crib, curled up in a little ball, holding a teddy bear in her tiny hands. The room was exactly how I left it. No open windows. No shadows lurking. Nothing unusual.
But then, I heard it again. “I love you forever.”
My heart stopped.
“Jeremy?” My voice cracked. “Is this some kind of sick joke? Please… I can’t… I can’t take this…”
I quickly scanned the room, my hands shaking as I moved toward the window. Something had to explain this.
My fingers brushed the glass. It was shut. Locked. Outside, a branch was resting against the window, broken as if it had fallen there.
Okay. That explained the sound. But Jeremy’s voice?
My eyes snapped back to Sophia. She stirred in her sleep, clutching the bear tighter.
“Dada,” she mumbled in her sleep, and once again, my heart shattered.
And then it hit me.
The bear.
I dropped to my knees beside her crib, my hands trembling as I reached for it. I pressed it.
“I love you forever.”
My chest tightened painfully, as if all the air had been sucked out of me.
Jeremy’s voice… It was coming from the bear.
“Oh God,” I sobbed, clutching the bear to my chest. “Oh God, Jeremy…”
I sat back on the couch, staring at the bear as if it might come to life in my hands.
I didn’t remember buying it. Had someone given it to Sophia?
Then, I remembered. A week ago, we had celebrated Sophia’s second birthday. My mother-in-law, Gloria, had given her the bear.
“Look what Grandma got you!” I had said, trying to sound cheerful despite the ache in my heart. Another birthday without Jeremy.
I had hardly looked at the bear then. It was just another stuffed animal.
But now? Now I needed answers. So I called Gloria.
She picked up on the second ring. “Kelly, hi, sweetie! Everything okay?”
I gripped the bear tighter. “Did you know this thing plays Jeremy’s voice?”
There was a long silence.
Then, a soft, almost guilty voice responded, “Oh… did it finally play?”
My stomach twisted. “Finally? What do you mean FINALLY?”
Gloria sighed. “I was wondering when you’d hear it.”
I sat up straight. “Gloria, what did you do?”
“Kelly, please,” her voice trembled. “Just let me explain…”
“Explain what?” I demanded, my voice rising. “Explain why you thought it was okay to… to…”
I couldn’t finish the sentence.
An hour later, Gloria arrived, looking nervous. She sat across from me, hands folded, eyes flickering around the room.
“I just… I thought it would help,” she said softly.
I placed the bear between us. “Help who?”
She exhaled deeply. “Sophia. And you.”
I stared at her, trying to process.
“Kelly,” she reached across the table, taking my hand. “Every time Sophia asked about her daddy… every time I saw you trying to explain… it broke my heart.”
“And you don’t think this breaks mine?” I replied, my voice cracking. “To hear his voice again, out of nowhere?”
Gloria swallowed hard. “After Jeremy passed, I kept thinking about how Sophia would never hear her father’s voice. So, I took a recording from your wedding video. You remember his vows?”
My throat tightened.
“‘I love you forever,’” she whispered.
My chest constricted. “I remember,” I choked out. “He… he practiced those vows for weeks. He said they had to be perfect…”
She clasped her hands together. “I had it sewn into the bear before her birthday. I wanted her to have a piece of him. To know he’s always with her.”
I blinked hard, staring at the table, my mind whirling.
She had meant well. I knew that. But I felt blindsided.
“Gloria,” I whispered. “You should have told me.”
“I know,” she admitted with a fragile smile. “I just… I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Upset me?” I let out a bitter laugh. “I thought I was losing my mind. I thought… for a moment, I thought he was…”
“Alive?” Gloria finished softly. “Oh, sweetheart…”
She moved around the table, pulling me into her arms as I finally broke down.
“I miss him so much,” I sobbed. “Every single day…”
“I know,” she whispered, stroking my hair. “He would be so proud of you, Kelly. So proud of how you’re raising Sophia.”
I didn’t know what to say.
I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t relieved. I was just… overwhelmed.
That night, I sat in Sophia’s room, watching her sleep. The bear was in my lap. My fingers gently traced the soft fabric as I looked at my little girl—the daughter Jeremy never got to meet.
She looked so much like him. The same curve to her nose, the same dimple when she smiled, the same sparkling blue eyes.
“You would have loved her so much,” I whispered into the darkness. “She’s perfect, Jeremy. Just perfect.”
I pressed the bear one last time, and his voice filled the room again:
“I love you forever.”
A lump formed in my throat. I quickly wiped my eyes, swallowing the ache.
I missed him.
Sophia stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Mama?”
“Hey, baby girl,” I whispered, stroking her cheek.
“Bear?” She reached for the teddy.
I handed it to her, watching as she hugged it close. Jeremy’s voice filled the room once again.
“That’s your daddy,” I told her, my voice thick with emotion. “He loves you so much.”
“Dada?” She looked at the bear with wide eyes, then back at me.
“Yes, sweetheart. That’s Dada.”
She hugged the bear tighter, closing her eyes. “Love Dada.”
For so long, I thought I had lost everything. But here, in my daughter’s arms, was a piece of him.
I leaned down and kissed Sophia’s forehead.
“You’ll always have him with you, my sweet girl,” I whispered. “Always.”
The grief was still there. It always would be.
But for the first time in a long time… I didn’t feel so alone.