No Such Thing As Goodbye

No Such Thing as Goodbye

Author's note: This story isn't really contemporary, I just had no idea which category to put it in. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

~ Jasey :)

goodbye

/ɡʊdˈbʌɪ/

1. used to express good wishes when parting or at the end of a conversation.

Similar:

farewell

adieu

au revoir

ciao

auf Wiedersehen

adios

sayonara

vale

bye

bye-bye

so long

see you

see you later

catch you later

cheers

ta-ta

later

laters

Opposite:

hello

noun

2. an instance of saying ‘goodbye’; a parting.

"we said our goodbyes and set off"

Dear Mama,

I’m writing you this letter before the last of my room gets packed up. As you know, I’ve never written a letter before, not counting in English class in Year 2, so sorry if I’m a little rusty. The boxes are stacked up in the living room, which makes everything more surreal. I still cannot believe I’m not going to college, I thought that was the path I was taking, but I guess I was wrong. It’s not that I have a bloodlust or a desire for war, it’s more defending the country and protecting those in danger. That’s why I could never play those video games with my friends, I always ended up saving the children instead of shooting down the enemies. Even so, I could’ve become a police officer. I’m not sure, Mama. What I do know is that I will miss you and Papa, though I don’t say it often. My friends always call me a “mother’s boy” and I’m proud to own it, who couldn’t love their Mama? 

Anyway, I can hear the van pulling into the driveway. That means I have to carry all those boxes and pack away my things. I didn’t really believe it before but now I do. I will miss the swing tied to the big pine tree in the backyard, I will miss that one vanilla candle you always light on Sunday evenings, and I will miss riding to the park with you and Papa as a child. I hope the army lets me write letters to you both, or send you a message. As much as I like hanging out with the lads, there’s nothing like sitting in front of the fireplace with your parents, just there in each other’s company. I hope you can forgive me for moving away, Mama. I know that’s not what you wanted, but you always tell me if it’s good for me and it makes me happy, then I should go and do it. I have to go. Father is calling me outside to start bringing boxes into the van. I love you, Mama. I already gave Papa a nice, long speech about how I was going to make him proud since he likes those kinds of things. I won’t say goodbye because I know how much you dislike saying it because I’ll be back. 

Forever your son,

Timothy 

~

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. There's never been a word so sad. Goodbye life, goodbye love, goodbye my friend. Does that word not make the world seem so much more desolate and morbid? I believe so. How I wish I could say that word to you, but I don't think I can bring myself to. You are my pride and joy, Timothy. No mother wants to say goodbye to her child. No mother wants to kiss their son's cheek, saying you'll see them tomorrow when they won't. No mother can bear the loss of their child. 

So, I wonder, my son, if I do not say goodbye to you when you leave in two hours, does that mean I do not accept it? I do not wish to see you go, but Mother will always do everything for you. Remember that, Timothy. If it benefits you, then so be it. I will take that risk and pay that price. But I have never been one for goodbyes, darling boy. Perhaps a ‘see you soon’, but never farewell. For there is nothing good about saying bye, is there? 

Timothy, when you grow up, I want you to remind yourself that you are capable and worthy. Don’t get cocky. I want you to love yourself and remember Papa and I love you too. Don’t become vain. I want you to learn, adapt, and change in all the right ways. Don’t think you are perfect. I say this because I strive for the imperfect things in life. After all, they can be so beautiful. Perhaps you will not listen to your Mama’s words, and that is alright too. Maybe you must learn things the hard way, even though it’s not preferable.

There is your Papa now, packing your bags into the van. I can hear him telling you to stay safe. You’re nodding, a small smile on your face. You’ll make us proud, no doubt. What happened to the time, Timothy? In my mind, you will always be my little boy with those beautiful blonde curls and starstruck eyes. But now, you are a man prepared for war. If given the choice, I would not send you so far away, but this is the life you’ve chosen, Tim. A soldier who will never stop fighting, even on his last breath. Oh, and there’s the kettle boiling. I keep getting interrupted, even though I have to finish this letter before you leave. I’m still not willing to say it, you got your stubbornness from me.

I have come back, but perhaps I shouldn’t have. You’re back inside the house now, for the last time. Your room has been cleared out, nothing left to remind me of you, except memories and photographs hanging on the walls. I am going to miss you so much, Timothy. If not too much, but that is normal, right? You will be reading this and think, “Gosh, my mother has separation anxiety. She won’t be able to live on her own.” and maybe you are right. Except, I want you to be happy and not to worry about me. Be safe, Timothy. Come back home to me, my dear boy, so I don’t have to say goodbye. 

Love, 

Mama

~

19th July 2007

Dear Mr and Mrs Whitley,

It’s with a heavy heart that I regret to inform you that your son, Timothy Nigel Whitley, has died in the face of battle. His service to his country has been admired and will not be forgotten. On the 18th of July, at 800 hours, your son was shot on the battlefield by foreign enemies. A service will be held at our current site, and his body will be sent home as soon as possible. We thank you for your son’s commitment.

Sincerely, 

Commander Christopher Goodwin