I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I got the idea to call my dead sister’s cell phone from the movie P.S. I Love you, a story about a young woman whose husband suddenly dies.

Following the funeral, the wife lays in bed calling his cell phone over and over.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

It was the saddest thing I’d ever seen.

When Melissa died, I called her constantly.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I sobbed when she didn’t answer.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I sobbed listening to her voicemail and I obsessed.

I pulled my family into it.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

It was a little funny.

During one of my routine calls to Melissa, something weird happened.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Something that barged in on my pity party.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Something that introduced me to Jeff.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I hung up on Jeff.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Melissa’s cell phone account had only been closed a few months. My beloved calling routine had been taken from me by Jeff, aided by the dicks over at Verizon.

As pack leader, it was my job to ensure that Emily and Joe knew how to react.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Fueled by “coping-with-depression-via-alcohol,” I made a call.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I gauged his reaction to a drunk dial.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

He seemed game.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Jeff and I connected immediately.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

But I had the right number. And it was Jeff’s.

Jeff and I had an amazing summer together.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I couldn’t wait to get him on the line for a rip-roaring chat.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

Classic Jeff.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

I don’t remember much of our conversations.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

What I do remember is the excitement shared when Jeff and I connected on the line.

If my life was a movie, Jeff getting Melissa’s phone number would have been one of those silver-lining things you hear about when people die. Like Jeff and I were supposed to meet. And Melissa dying was the only way that could happen.

A few months into my new routine with Jeff, I got a text from an unknown number.

I called my dead sister’s phone to hear her voicemail. Jeff answered.

My life isn’t exactly like a sad movie.