Saying Goodbye

• Henry Jambor, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2014

The room is eerily quiet. There is only one window which is half shadowed by the dusty maroon coloured curtain. The few sun rays which can get through the thin cracked window has to then weave around the room trying to lighten up the mood. But there is more darkness than light. There are piles of dust and dead skin cells everywhere. To have to spend your last moments here is depressing. The room feels forgotten. I look upon what used to be my fit, handsome Grandfather’s face which is now similar to that of a 12 month old cottage cheese slice. Flashbacks of my childhood which we spent together begin to replay in my mind. My vision starts to blur as my tongue begins to curl over in discomfort from the taste of the salty discharge which continues to drop from my top lip. I wish I could leave this place of agonising pain. But every time I begin to walk out I am drawn back by an unexplainable emotional attachment. I don’t want this pain to continue. My mind wants to leave this poor soul to rest but my heart is telling me to stay. The once glistening room is beginning to cool as the sun starts to set. My eyes lock onto his continuously moving chest. The perfectly balanced rhythm hypnotises my thoughts. Up and down, up and down. My lids begin to soften. My vision is slowly narrowing down to the point where all I can see is my Grandfather’s slim, worn chest. The image is almost gone when I see that the chest stopped moving. My eye lids shoot open like a bull out of a gate and I instantly rub them to see if I am dreaming. But his chest continues to lie still. He is gone. My body goes into shock and suddenly I find my self-frozen and unable to move. My vision goes black and all I can taste is the familiar taste of tears.