Grief has a way of playing tricks on the mind, but this? This was undeniably real. Kelly knew her husband’s voice — she had heard it every day. And yet, now, she heard 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 speaking in his voice? When she stepped inside, everything froze.
I’m Kelly. I’m 30 years old, and my life has been a whirlwind of love and loss. Two years ago, my husband, Jeremy, died in a car crash. At the time, I was eight months pregnant with our daughter, Sophia. One minute, I was decorating her nursery, painting bright flowers on the walls, daydreaming about our life ahead. The next, the phone rang, and everything came crashing down.
The memory of that phone call is as vivid as if it happened yesterday. The paintbrush slipped from my hands, leaving a streak of pink on the wall.
“Miss Kelly?” The officer’s voice was calm, but I could hear the tension in it. “This is Officer Reynolds…”
“Yes?” My hand instinctively moved to my swollen belly as Sophia kicked, as though she sensed my growing fear.
“There’s been an accident. Your husband…”
“No,” I whispered, clutching my stomach. “No, please…”
They told me it was a bad crash — too bad to see his body. I never got the chance to say goodbye. Just a closed casket at the funeral, and that was it.
“Kelly, honey,” my mom had said at the funeral, holding me as I sobbed uncontrollably. “You need to stay strong. For the baby.”
“How?” I choked out. “How am I supposed to do this without him? He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to hold her…”
Two years later, I was doing my best to keep going, to be strong for Sophia. But the emptiness? It never really went away.
Then, two days ago, something happened that made me question everything.
It was a typical afternoon. I had put Sophia down for her nap and settled on the couch with a book. The house was quiet. Peaceful.
Then, I heard it. The sound of a window closing. It wasn’t loud, just enough to make me glance up. Probably the wind, I thought. But then I froze in place. The voice… it was Jeremy’s voice.
I swear, my whole body went cold.
It wasn’t some faint memory echoing in my head. It wasn’t wishful thinking. It was clear. His voice was unmistakable.
I sat there, frozen, my breath stuck in my chest. My heart hammered in my chest, and I felt lightheaded, dizzy.
“Jeremy?” I whispered, trembling. “Is that really you?”
No. No, no, no. Jeremy was gone. This wasn’t possible.
The voice was coming from Sophia’s room.
I sprang to my feet, so quickly the book fell from my lap. My mind raced — was someone else in there? Was I imagining things?
I rushed down the hallway, barely feeling the floor beneath me. My hands were ice-cold, and my stomach churned with nausea.
“Please,” I whispered, tears already starting to fall. “Please, if you’re there…”
I pushed open Sophia’s door.
She was sound asleep in her crib, curled up, her tiny fingers clutching a teddy bear. The room looked exactly as I had left it. No open windows. No shadows lurking in the corners. Nothing.
But then, I heard it again.
I thought my heart had stopped.
“Jeremy?” My voice cracked. “Is this some kind of cruel joke? Please… I can’t take this…”
I scanned the room, hands shaking as I moved toward the window. There had to be an explanation for this.
I touched the glass. It was shut. Locked. Outside, a small branch rested against the window, broken like it had fallen from the tree outside.
Okay. That explained the noise. But Jeremy’s voice?
My eyes darted back to Sophia. She stirred in her sleep, hugging the bear tighter.
“Dada,” she murmured softly, and my heart shattered all over again.
I dropped to my knees beside her crib, trembling hands reaching out to touch the bear. I pressed it close to my chest, my heart aching in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
Jeremy’s voice… it was coming from the bear.
“Oh God,” I sobbed, clutching the bear as if it could somehow bring him back. “Oh God, Jeremy…”
I sat on the couch, staring at the bear in my hands, the voice echoing in my mind.
I had no memory of buying it. Had someone given it to her?
Then it clicked. A week ago, we had celebrated Sophia’s second birthday. My mother-in-law, Gloria, had given her that bear.
“Look what Grandma got you!” I had said, trying to smile through the ache in my chest. Another birthday without Jeremy.
I hadn’t really looked at the bear at the time. Just another stuffed toy.
But now? Now, I needed answers. So, I called Gloria.
She answered on the second ring. “Kelly, sweetie! Everything okay?”
I gripped the bear tightly. “Did you know this thing plays Jeremy’s voice?”
There was a pause, then a quiet, hesitant response. “Oh… did it finally play?”
My stomach dropped. “Finally? What do you mean, finally?”
Gloria sighed. “I wondered when you’d hear it.”
I sat up straighter. “Gloria, what did you do?”
“Please, Kelly, 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 showed up, looking almost nervous. She sat across from me, her hands folded, eyes searching my face.
“I just… I thought it would help,” she said softly.
I placed the bear between us. “Help who?”
She exhaled, then took my hand. “Sophia. And you.”
“Kelly,” she said gently, “Every time Sophia asks about her daddy… every time I see you struggling to explain… it breaks my heart.”
“And you don’t think this breaks mine?” My voice cracked. “To hear his voice again, out of nowhere?”
Gloria swallowed, her eyes welling with tears. “After Jeremy died, I kept thinking about how Sophia would never know his voice. So I took a recording from your wedding video. You remember his vows?”
“‘I love you forever,'” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
I blinked hard, staring at the table, trying to process everything.
She meant well, I knew that. But I was blindsided.
“Gloria,” I said softly, “You should’ve told me.”
“I know,” she admitted, her smile fragile. “I just… didn’t want to upset you.”
“Upset me?” I laughed bitterly. “I thought I was going crazy. I thought… for a moment, I thought he was… alive.”
“Alive?” Gloria finished, her voice tender. “Oh, sweetheart…”
She moved across the table, pulling me into a hug as I broke down in her arms.
“I miss him so much,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “Every single day…”
“I know,” she murmured, 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.
Later that night, I sat in Sophia’s room, watching her sleep. The bear was in my lap, my fingers tracing its soft fabric as I gazed at my daughter — the daughter Jeremy never got to meet.
She looked so much like him. The same nose. The same smile. The same sparkling blue eyes.
“You would’ve loved her so much,” I whispered. “She’s perfect, Jeremy. Just perfect.”
I pressed the bear one last time, and his voice filled the room again. My chest tightened, the ache in my heart unbearable.
Sophia stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Mama?”
“Hey, baby girl,” I whispered, stroking her cheek.
“Bear?” She reached for the teddy bear.
I handed it to her, watching as she hugged it to her chest. Jeremy’s voice echoed softly in the room.
“That’s your daddy,” I said, tears thick in my voice. “He loves you so much.”
“Dada?” She looked at the bear, then back at me.
“Yes, sweetheart. That’s Dada.”
She closed her eyes and hugged the bear tighter. “Love Dada.”
For so long, I thought I had lost everything. But in that moment, I realized I still had a piece of him. And so did Sophia.
I kissed her forehead, whispering, “You’ll always have him with you, my sweet girl. 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.