Saying Goodbye

It was a Saturday, about a week before

and the room was hot.

I did not have much I could find to say,

my throat felt dry.

I stood near the window for a release

from the overwhelming heat.

It pained me to look over at you,

that sadness in your eyes.

You curled the phone cord around the fingers of your left hand

I remember that.

You did it the whole time we were there.

I wanted to tell you it was going to be okay,

I wanted to,

but I did not know how to find the words.

As we all left, everyone grabbed your hand and said their goodbyes.

I rehearsed my turn in my head

to make sure it felt right.

I squeezed your hand, "I love you so much", I said.

We all walked out

I thought about our goodbye

wondering if I’d have a chance to say it again.

This one didn’t feel right.

A week later

I look down at your still face,

the room was hot.

I find myself with this thought again

the true last goodbye.

I say the words in my head and I reach out for your hand,

Ice cold.

This did not feel right.

I try to say it again,

my hands shaking this time,

my weeps filling the quiet room while others stand by.

I don’t want to do this.

I study your face.

I can’t do this anymore.

I look again.