Goodbye

• Brayden Thornthwaite, Grade 10, Caloundra Christian College
• Short Story
• 2017

Excellence Award in the 'Spread The Word 2017' competition

Mum and I were planning to go out motorbike riding.
"I haven't seen much of grandad recently, maybe I should invite him?"
I gave him a ring. He was so excited! As I hung up the phone, I thought I had made a great decision, never had I been so wrong.

When we finally arrived at Glen Echo motor cross park, Grandad’s stomach was really sore. Mum heated up the stew we’d taken and everything seemed to be ok after he’d eaten it.
"I can tell ya Kirsty, that hit the spot!"

I could hear the sound of several motorbikes starting up so I went out for a ride, but something wasn't right. The motorbike was backfiring and making a really weird popping noise.
"Something’s wrong with my bike," I sadly explained to mum.
"Well there’s nothing else to do out here without a motorbike so I guess we’ll have to go home."

The next day was a school holiday. We got a call, grandad had been admitted to hospital. We jumped in the car and rushed over to the hospital to see him. He was awake and looked to be doing fine, I said goodbye. Little did I know it was the last time I’d get to say it.

Grandad seemed to be recovering well and so was sent home. But a few days later, the phone rang again: he was back in the hospital. He was so far out of it, I don't even think he realised I was there. I was watching him, I felt horrible, like everything was my fault. There was an old lady standing next to me. "He's gonna be alright, everything will be fine," she said in a calm and settling way. I didn't even know the woman.

Grandad was admitted to Brisbane hospital, that's when things went wrong. As they were transferring him, his lungs collapsed, he was on life support. I came home from school.
"How is he?" I asked mum.
She just stared at me, and delivered some of the most devastating news I’d heard in my life.
"Grandad isn't coming home."

I went with the whole family to say goodbye to him. We waited with him all day. At 9:00pm me, my grandma, and my brother were told to leave. Grandma and my brother said their goodbyes, but I couldn't do it; I never said goodbye.

We got home, I felt horrible. I rang mum in a rush, begging her to say goodbye to Grandad for me, and that I loved him. She said it for me, but I didn't say it myself. If it wasn't for me, maybe he wouldn't have been there in the first place.

A year later, I still carried that blame but I never said anything about it. Then my brother looked at me and said, "It wasn't your fault." Those words released me of my burden and reminded me of the old lady at the hospital, she was right: everything was ok.