He loved his family. He loved Vivaldi and “The Four Seasons”.
He assigned “The Spring” as the ring when the call came from his children, the flowers of his life.
He assigned “The Summer” for calls from his wife, his sunshine of his life.
He assigned “The Autumn” for calls from the parents, whose colorful, silent evening has set.
It was his grandfather’s death anniversary that day. The phone rang “The Winter” – he died of panic.