I'm going to spread his ashes in the rose garden. I think to myself, sure that that's what he would have liked, the door bell rings. Must be the guys from the crematorium. I open the door, it's them and what's left of my father in a small gold-plated metal can. Seeing it brings fresh tears to my eyes. I sign some papers and collect the remains.

As I place the urn on the table, the telephone rings. I'm surprised, I already told everyone I knew that I wasn't going to be able to answer any calls today. I let it ring. But it doesn't stop, I lost count after twenty four rings and now I'm perplexed, angry and curious.

"Whoever you are, you need to get a life!" I yell into the phone.

No one replies, all I can hear is heavy breathing.

"Hello?"

A slight wheeze.

"Hello?"

More heavy breathing.

I'm about to hang up when I hear a voice, an unmistakable voice, say, "Is that Isabella?"

My blood runs cold, my legs feel like rubber, a thin sheet of perspiration breaks out on my skin, even in the slightly chilly morning. I recognize the voice.

"Pl... Please don't let them b...burn me"

It's the voice of my father. My dead father.