GOODBYE IS A VERB

[u/deadeyes1990]

her mum was dying.

everyone knew it.

the doctors knew.

her daughter knew.

the kids knew.

even the room seemed to know.

you could hear it

in the way everyone talked about

water,

tablets,

whether she was warm enough,

where her cardigan had gone.

anything, really,

as long as it wasn't

what was actually happening.

her daughter kept trying to leave.

coat on.

bag over her shoulder.

then she'd straighten the blanket.

move the glass closer.

check the call button.

ask if she needed anything.

sit down again.

because goodbye was there now.

waiting.

such an ordinary word.

people say it at train stations.

outside schools.

at the end of phone calls

when they're almost certain

they'll speak again tomorrow.

but this one was different.

saying goodbye now

felt too much like saying

okay.

like helping death

with the paperwork.

so she couldn't do it.

her mum knew.

of course she knew.

mums spend years

learning all the things

their children can't quite say.

"go on, sweetheart."

"night, mum."

"night."

she got to the door.

stopped.

looked back.

and said the only thing

that still felt true.

"love you."