I stared at the house in front of me that I had lost. It wasn’t mine, it was my grandparents, yet I considered it to be a second home. It held so many memories all the way down to the very bricks the house was made of. My grandfather had built and designed it himself for my grandmother, it bloomed from the beauty of love.

From the colourful flower display at the front that drew in everyone’s attention, to the vegetable garden at the back straight from a story book. A small hill perfect for lying upon with a small wooden stairway leading to the top where a picnic bench sat. A clothes line hung across the sky towards the house bringing a sliver of simplicity to our modern world.

Yet the garage at the very top held some of my favourite memories. Memories of family gatherings and birthdays, where my relatives all got together, hung out and celebrated. Looking at the now empty garage and shelves with spider webs, a faint pop of red caught my attention. A broken balloon on the floor lay as a reminder of what once was.

Making my way into the house, that distinct smell hit my nose, the smell of home. Exploring the house was heartbreaking knowing that this was my last time. My mind raced with familiarity as my heart sunk from the weight of loss. I didn’t know how to say goodbye to something that held true happiness and comfort. How do you let go of your home? Left feeling lost and troubled, in the cold and dark world.

My fingers ran along the walls in the livingroom where picture frames had been taken down. Looking up atop the cupboards in the kitchen where glass figurines have been taken down. The card holder in the dining room was now empty, no birthday or Christmas wishes graced the shelves. The feeling of emptiness weighed heavily upon my shoulders as they slouched further saying goodbye one last time to each room.

Walking downstairs I reached the basement where a small living space was. A hall lead from where my parents would sleep down to where I would. The familiar cool air embraced my skin creating goosebumps as my feet treaded along the carpet. Reaching the room filled with flowery bedding, sadness filled my eyes. This was my room, where I had slept every time we were here.

I was never going to sleep on that bed again, my feet would never have to swiftly walk across the freezing floor, the sun would never shine through those curtains. I would never wake up to my grandpas heavy footsteps above me in the morning or sounds of sizzling in the kitchen as breakfast was being cooked. The sound of the radio filled with all my favourite songs would never be played.

As I walked back upstairs I stepped into the entrance way. My eyes solemnly took in the house one last time and I stepped outside. Climbing into the car was painful and as we drove away, the house falling out of sight, I let silent tears stream down my face. Goodbye.