The G-Word

This is the fourth post in my goodbye series.

Dedicated to those who have ever had to say goodbye too soon. July is is Bereaved Parents’ Month.

Don’t say the g-word.

I don’t want to hear it.

“God?” you ask. I roll my eyes

like my daughter, Corrie, did when I

asked her a question twice.  “You mean

god d–”    “Watch your mouth,” I say.

Legend goes your momma would

wash that word out of your mouth

with soap. They don’t do that now

with all the social media to post.

 There are the words not made for

those taught how to fold a napkin

from the age of three.

The words your momma would

wash out of your mouth, some

people drop like sprinkles and

chocolate syrup on ice cream. 

“Goodbye, I mean,” I say. “It’s

worse than any word you don’t

want said at your grandmother’s

dinning table.”  Those kind of words

simply offend good taste.

You can get over yourself

with words like that.

Goodbye stabs in you chest, and

then the enemy twists.  You think you

feel yourself die.  Goodbye is more than

trying to get a rise. Goodbye grips your

heart and squeezes harder. There’s no

relief.  Goodbye is when I watch her

father cry when he kisses the coffin

one more time because we can’t

bear to think of her body in the ground.

Goodbye, I promised I wouldn’t turn off

the lights, but they say, “We will close the

casket now.” I kiss her head one more time.

So cold. Goodbye is the worst word to say.

By Rebecca T. Dickinson

A beautiful post written by fellow blogger, Vivek Upadhayay.

Goodbye Series

1. When We Say Goodbye

2. With my Goodbye, Mom, Your Walls will Fall Down

3. The Goodbye Moments