A father was putting his 3-year-old daughter to bed one night.

As he tucked the blanket around her, she folded her tiny hands and whispered her bedtime prayer.
“God bless Mommy, God bless Daddy, God bless Grandma… goodbye Grandpa.”

The father froze.
“Sweetheart, why did you say goodbye Grandpa?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “It just felt right.”

The next morning, the phone rang. The family received the heartbreaking news: her grandfather had passed away during the night. The father was shaken, but he convinced himself it had to be a coincidence — a strange, unsettling coincidence, but a coincidence nonetheless.

Months passed. Life steadied. Then one night, as he tucked her in again, she prayed:

“God bless Mommy, God bless Daddy, goodbye Grandma.”

His blood ran cold.

The following day, his wife collapsed in tears — her mother had died overnight.

This time, the father couldn’t shake the feeling that something unnerving was happening. His daughter wasn’t guessing. She knew.

Weeks later, he tucked her in as usual, trying to hide the dread curling in his stomach. She closed her eyes and whispered:

“God bless Mommy… and goodbye Daddy.”

The words hit him like ice water.

He barely slept that night, terrified that each ticking second might be his last. When the sun finally rose, he panicked. Instead of going home, he drove straight to the office and stayed there — all day, all night, glued to his chair, waiting for fate to strike.

Midnight finally came.
Nothing happened.

Shaking with relief, he drove home. When he walked through the door, exhausted and pale, his wife stared at him.

“Where have you been? You look terrible!”

“You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” he sighed. “I thought I was going to die.”

His wife blinked, then said:

“You think your day was bad? My boss dropped dead in the middle of a meeting today!”