It was the wrong call that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of the night, and the Voice at the other end asking... “Would you like to have a lift?” I was appalled thinking who it could be. Was it a premonition I was having, the premonition of the inevitable? Everyone who is born has to die, yes, that is the truth, but does death really tell you it is coming? I don’t know. I thought I had heard a human voice on the other side of the phone, or was I dreaming? By the way, what was the caller intending to ask me, a lift to heaven or a lift to drop me back to where I belong to? By the time I was thinking all this, the caller perhaps thought I was playing a prank with him and cut the call. I looked at the phone receiver, stared at it, wondering do all terminally ill cancer patients have calls like these. I’ll tell this incident to my daughter, once she wakes up tomorrow. I am also going to sleep, so goodbye.
Reading this letter the following morning, the daughter was left bewildered, how her mother, instead of telling her orally, had written about her death.
