I literally could not comprehend the inevitable, which in a way, stopped me from worrying.
Staring out through the rain soaked window at the garden which held all my fondest memories, I couldn't bring myself to actually go outside and sit in it one last time. That garden was my favourite place in the world and now I can never go back there. I don't like the lack of control I have over the situation but I always try to spend as little time as possible worrying about things I know I can't change.
I lay on the floor and sobbed until there were no more tears because it was all I could do.
I knew she was going to die, but while the house was there, she was still alive. Even going back there today, seeing it stripped of character and not resembling anything in my head, I could still smell Clarins.
She was still in there somehow, but we can't go back and I can no longer pretend everything is normal when I wake up from a nap in the spare room. I am going to miss that hazy limbo where my mind told me everything was fine for just a few precious seconds. No more wandering around looking at all her things the way she had left them, it has all gone. Completely dismantled, everything broken up like an unused jigsaw and scattered around our own houses so she can live on in a way in our day to day lives.
I knew she was going to die, even though she didn't know herself, but nothing could prepare me for the death of the house. For me, she truly died the moment I shut the front door for the last time.
I said goodbye to my childhood today, to everything I have ever understood as normality and now there is just the rest of everything else to deal with forever, and my god, I am not ready.
I will never be ready. I don't think I will ever truly say goodbye, I can't. She makes up too much of me to let go.