Overlooking the ocean, near the town of Ōtsuchi, Japan, a white telephone booth containing a disconnected rotary phone sits within the Bell Gardia Kujira-Yama garden. Itaru Sasaki, its creator, named this booth kaze no denwa, or the wind phone. Sasaki built the wind phone in 2011 to "call" his cousin, who had recently died of cancer. He built the wind phone for personal use; however, after the March 11, 2011, earthquake/tsunami that claimed the lives of nearly twenty thousand people and left around twenty-five hundred missing, the wind phone unexpectedly became a destination for others mourning the loss of their loved ones. In the documentary The Phone of the Wind: Whispers to Lost Families, Sasaki elaborates on the naming of the phone booth: "The phone won't carry my voice. So I let the wind do it." 1 Over the years as people travel to use the phone, Sasaki has welcomed them to his garden, where they too can feel the wind transport their voices.As Sasaki's wind phone rose to popularity in Japan, 2 it also became popular in other parts of the world, inspiring films, novels, news articles, and other media. Many people journey from around the world to visit the wind phone, while others have built and continue to build their own versions. Each wind phone has different cultural contexts, geographic locations, and environments, but their purpose remains consistent: to give people a chance to speak to and feel heard by their departed loved ones. 3 This essay examines how the wind phone reinvents the communication technology of the telephone as a technology of mourning that helps the living feel heard by and connected to the dead. 4 Taking on multiple forms, the wind phone offers an interactive sensorial encounter that is not necessarily available through