LANGLEY, Wash. — Off a gravel trail inside Whidbey Island's Trustland Trails Park sits a phone booth where words ride on the wind. Consider it a sort of "airway to heaven."
“Hi, grandma. I just wanted to give you an update on life,” Liz Owen-Williams said into the phone. “I feel so blessed there is a wind phone on this island, so I continue to speak to you.”
Owen-Williams was using what's called a wind phone to speak to her grandmother. Rooted in Japanese culture, it's a place where anyone can come, lift the receiver and have a personal conversation with someone who has passed on.
“We miss you immensely every day,” she whispered.
Owen-Williams' grandmother Eileen died in 2013 at 98 years old.
“Every day, I wish she was here,” said a tearful Owen-Williams.
The old rotary telephone she was using isn't connected to any transmission lines, but Owen-Williams believes it is connected to something greater.
“The majority of my conversations with her are through prayers. Picking up a phone is a different kind of conversation you're able to have,” she explaine. “It definitely makes it and her more tangible.”
This particular wind phone is a creation of Suzie Reynolds.
“I hope they're able to find some private time and just let out what they've been holding in,” Reynolds said.
Reynolds and her husband built the booth so those feeling the loss of a loved one – or those who live far from their final resting places – need only pick up the handle and make a connection.
“Hey, there. I just really hope you're proud of what I'm doing with the children. And I hope that you're at peace now,” said Leigh Bunch-Kuschnereit into the receiver.
She is still mourning the loss of her husband, Joshua, who passed five years ago.
“Thank you for taking care of the kids and I even after you're gone,” she said.
Joshua died by suicide leaving behind Leigh and their children. She has brought the kids to the booth so they can tell their late dad a lifetime of words that would otherwise be left unsaid.
Call it prayer, meditation or simply therapy, Leigh said it works.
“I can't think of a healthier way of grieving,” she said. “We left with smiles on our faces. We did cry, but they were happy tears.”
For Reynolds, the creation of the phone booth was intensely personal. Her baby boy, Danny, died three years ago after just one week on Earth.
“I mean, I've never felt whole,” Reynolds said, fighting back tears. “For a while, it just felt like my arms were searching for something I couldn't hold or touch.”
Now, she can speak to her beloved baby boy whenever she wants.
“I miss you all the time,” Reynolds spoke into the phone, her voice barely audible.
They are tearful, honest conversations – words never heard face to face but spoken from the heart.
And while Reynolds said the wind phone is helping her heal, she believes it's Danny who is helping the others do the same.
“He lived for one week and the impact his life made is just incredible. I mean, look at the lives that he has touched,” she said, beaming.
It’s a gift from the Reynolds family to their community. Sentiments are sent to the sky, carried by the winds and received by hurting hearts.
“Knowing that it's helping other people grieve and other people connect, it really does help me in my process,” Reynolds said.