That phone call on New Year's Eve

A Ripple moment. Reach out your hand if your cup be empty.

The phone rings in the early evening one New Year's eve. A while ago, as the "phone book" reference tells you.

I am on the computer doing nothing, really, so I pick up.

A female voice: Hello, I am SoAndSo, and I was looking for Mr. A.

Me: Oh, hi.

Female voice: Yes, I was wondering if you could help me. He is not in the phone book, you and OtherPerson have the same last name, so... (trailing off).

Me, switching to Mr. A.'s first name C.: Yes, I knew C.

She picks up the past tense right away. This should make it easier.

She: You knew him, is that what you said?

I feel bad for the perceptive stranger, and I am glad and thankful at the same time.
She takes a deep breath, probably bracing for the inevitable.

Me: Yes, he was a cousin (another past tense, pause). He died in a car accident five years ago.

Her breathing tells me she is in pain, she does not start to cry or sob.

Me: You had known him for some time, I guess.

She: We met many years ago, as students, when we were studying to be teachers.

She continues to reminisce, and I get the impression I did okay with some of the worst news you can expect.

We chat for another 45 minutes or so, about lots of things once she had finished what she wanted to tell be about her and my cousin. It had been about 20 years since they had lost contact.

I fill her in about what I know, that he had married, had two kids, teens, how his life had been cut short by this car passing on a narrow country road, slamming head on into his vehicle.

She sounded happier as we ended the conversation. Part of me wondered if she would ever call again. But, of course, that was not to happen.

If I knew the way I would take you home.