Betty IV

I made a stupid mistake today. 

I phoned Grandad to say thanks for the money he had sent me. That's not the mistake, however. The mistake was dialling the wrong number without realising it. I was just one digit out, but that's no consolation.

A lady answered the phone. You haven't been with us for over a year now, so I wasn't expecting that. Then I felt elated: I thought it was you on the other end of the line.

But it wasn't.

I'm reading a good book at the moment by Orhan Pamuk called My Name is Red. There's a nice quote in it:: After some tragedy, we all feel the same way: In one last desperate hope, and without caring how comic and foolish we appear, we pray that everything might continue as it always has.

And it's so true. A small part of me has always hoped you'll come home, just like when I was waiting for you to suddenly start speaking while I stood by your side at the funeral parlour. 

I guess for a moment I saw a glimpse of this hope realised, then saw it fade away. 

I put the phone down and cried.