The Sound of Goodbye: How My Ringtone Became a Reminder of Loss

There are certain moments in life that etch themselves into your memory so deeply that even the smallest reminder can pull you right back. For me, it’s a sound, just a few notes of a ringtone and suddenly, I’m standing in that moment again.

It was the call that changed everything. The moment I answered and heard the words I had been dreading: my mum had passed. That ringtone became a trigger, an instant wave of grief crashing over me whenever I heard it.

Even in the most ordinary moments - standing in line at the supermarket, on my daily walk, at school pickup, if someone else’s phone rings with the same tone, my stomach tightens, my chest aches, and for a split second, I’m right back in that day, reliving the weight of that loss.

I was only meant to come home, have a shower, grab something to eat, and take a nap before returning to her. I left around 3 p.m., expecting to go back, expecting more time. But the call came in just before 11 p.m., and with it, everything changed.

I remember asking her nurse, Is it ok if I go? I hadn’t slept in two days. I was wearing an N95 mask and goggles trapped in the strange, isolating reality of the Covid era. Every tear I shed felt suffocating, caught within my own mask and goggles amplifying my sadness.

Mum’s breathing had become painful to hear; ragged, uneven and gaspy. She was unconscious, yet her body still fought for each breath. I stayed by her side, gently clearing her nose and mouth, doing what little I could to ease her struggle.

The only people who entered her room were the carers who came to turn her like clockwork and the occasional nurse. The wing was on lockdown due to COVID, with many nurses and carers infected, leaving it severely short-staffed.

I needed a break before I broke.

But with one phone call, everything changed.

And now, I didn’t expect a ringtone to hold so much power over me. I hear that exact ringtone, and suddenly, I’m taken right back to that place.

But grief has a way of attaching itself to the unexpected - the scent of a familiar perfume, a song playing, a phrase someone casually says that I haven’t heard since Mum said it. That ringtone has become a ghost of that painful moment, always lurking, ready to unnerve me when I least expect it.

I changed my ringtone the day after Mum passed because the next time it rang, after that dreaded call, my anxiety was through the roof. I was expecting the person on the other end to be giving me bad news.

Even now, when my phone rings, especially if it’s from a private number, I brace myself, expecting bad news about a loved one. I’m not sure that will ever go away.

Grief lingers in unexpected places. Sometimes, we can’t control it. But sometimes, we can make small changes that help us breathe a little easier.