If Home Is Where The Heart Is...

Hey blog viewers, I know it's been a while and my blog has become somewhere that I can only really turn to when something happens or when I need to let off some steam or I have something that needs to be said. Well unfortunately it's a little bit of each of those this time and I'm sorry for anyone that hast to read this but it's basically my way of ranting and raving about whats happening in my life at the moment. But none of this is supposed to sound like a sob story and I apologise if it does, especially to my family since it obviously concerns them a lot, I'm writing it all down because it's the only way I'm ever actually going to get over it all and come to terms with everything happening so quickly and if it sounds over dramatic or attention seeking then again I apologise because it's really not, it's just the way everything feels at the moment.

Since coming to University I found it so hard to settle in, in my first term I was going back and forth between here and home every week or so and it was a great comfort to both me and my family knowing I was so close and able to see them every few days. The second term was much the same and it was only summer term that I really became independent. I suddenly decided to take my job at B&Q more seriously and University suddenly became a lot more interesting and it between this and my new job as a Spitfire Sweetheart (which I will post about soon when the timing is right) that made me feel like I could stand on my own two feet a bit more. It ended up that going home became something I only did once or twice for special reasons, heck I didn't even go home for Mothers Day.

It was when I went home about a month ago now, for a week, that my family started to tell me everything that was going on in their lives and it sounds pathetic and poetic and just stupid but it was when I was sat cup of tea in my hand that my mum went "There's also some sad news" and my heart sank, the last time she'd used that line it was when my kitten had been run over and they weren't sure if he was going to be OK or not. This time isn't much different, I'm sure I've posted about him before since he's such a colossal part of my life and has been for the past 8 years. My dog Sirius (named after the starts not the Harry Potter films) has a tumour in his mouth. It's malignant and he is going to die, when my mum told me it wasn't a case of years or months but more weeks and a month or so at best. I don't think I really came to terms with that idea, after all I've not been at home, I've not seen him getting worse but over the course of that week at home I realised how slow and sad he had suddenly become, at that point he was eating and he was playing with his ball and would curl up on the sofa with my mum in the evening just like usual - he seemed OK and I think a part of me forgot what was going to happen, so I never said goodbye. I don't know if it was on purpose or if I simply forgot with the excitement of coming back to Canterbury but I didn't and I've been waiting for the phone call from my mum ever since.

But it's been ok, each time I've spoken to my family I've been told Sirius is fine, he has his low days and his high days and it's all looking ok at the moment, until this week when I was speaking to my mum about plans for my dad's birthday on the Friday. I only had the Friday off work and so it was a case of either me going home for the day or my family coming to Canterbury to see me, both of which sounded like really good options, until Wednesday when my mum asked me to go home, my dad was working during the day so that was part of it but Sirius was worse and she felt it was time I came home and said goodbye. Again I managed to push it to the back of my mind, I had hundreds of things to sort out and work every day and my boyfriend was staying the night Thursday so I had plenty of things to occupy my time. Then on the Friday I caught the train home, met up with my family and went to the cinema to see Simon Peggs new film (it was awful). At 6 we got home, and pulling into our drive the first thing I saw was the "For Sale" sign outside of our house. (This is where two sob stories interject into being one)

I've known for a while that my parents weren't happy in the house anymore and that they wanted a change of scene, my mum and dad had been talking about moving since before I went to University and to be fair (and I'm sorry family) I never thought it would happen as there was so much hesitation and procrastination. I'd been told that day before that someone was going to take photos of the house to put it on the market but it never crossed my mind that the day after they would but the sign up outside. I've lived in my home my entire life, it was the house I was taken back to after I was born, the place where I lost my first tooth, where all our cats are buried, where most of my happiest memories are. You see in films when parents decide to sell a house and the kids aren't happy about it, the kicking down the sign and the tampering with the property to make it so other people wouldn't buy it - I can honestly say all of those thoughts went through my head. Maybe if I break down the sign no-one will know and my family can stay living there whilst I finish at University and then everything will be ok for when I come back - oh and universe whilst you're at it could you work a miracle and make it so my dog's tumour just goes away? Thank you.

I know, I'm being about as selfish as I can get!

So leaving the house thing for the moment and going back to Sirius. When we got inside the thing I noticed first was the happy bouncing puppy who I'd left behind a year ago - he seemed no different and for a split second I thought it had all been a joke. Then I noticed the smell, to be fair he is a dog and has never smelt of sunshine and buttercups but the smell of rot and decay was slightly overpowering, to the point I had to go upstairs and prepare myself for going back down to see him. Along with the smell was his chest and front legs, they looked black from all the slobber and gunk which was coming from his mouth, obviously where the tumour has grown closing his mouth and swallowing and all these things we all take for granted he couldn't do. I don't think my heart has ever actually been broken until I caught sight of him in the kitchen, laying on the floor not moving, just staring into the distance and I think that's the point it really hit home about what was happening - The long and short is that my parents are going to decide soon when he should be put down, he's sad and miserable and although he has his good days his bad days are so bad that they're barely worth it anymore. It was with this idea in mind that I had to say goodbye to him at 6 the next morning - 12 hours to come to terms with the reality of the situations going on back home. Saying goodbye to Sirius, our home being sold and our holiday home in France also being put on the market (I'll explain in a second). When I sat down by his head (behind him so I didn't have to smell his breath) and started to stoke his head I thought he would get up, slobber on me, demand my affection and wag his tail - the most he did was open his eyes and look up at me. Cue the tears, but I did it and I've said goodbye and now I really am waiting for that call to let me know that it's all over, that whilst I'm miles away doing my job, cheerleading for the county cricket and hanging out with friends my family are having to make one of the hardest choices they've had to make and it's killing me that I'm not there for them, that I'm so far away but so close and yet there's still nothing I can do.

As for the houses? Well my parent's don't know where they'll move to, some of the ideas that have been considered are ridiculous (sorry family) but so long as they're happy then that's all that matters. I think I'm about to learn that home really is where your heart is - since both my homes are being sold.

I've gone all emotional and teary again so I'll be quick saying about France - When my Grandmother died my parents used the money to buy us a holiday house in the Loire Valley, it was just a run down old barn without heating, Internet and without any other English people around. When we were younger my brother and I loved it, it was great fun making dens in all the sheds, riding our bikes up and down the lanes pretending we were on mopeds like in Zoey 101 (not that he would every admit it) Even before we got actually beds and used to have to camp on little cots in the main room all together it was family time and every summer we would love it. Then we got older and grumpy and friends and boyfriends/girlfriends and parties and Internet became a lot more important to us and we started wishing away the 4-6 weeks of bliss we had out there, now my parents have decided they won't ever be able to make the house as nice as they wanted and so are looking to sell it and buy somewhere nearer the South, where they can go and not have to worry about doing all the DIY that comes with our current house. I don't think they were actively going to sell it yet - but they received a letter from a French Estate Agent asking would they be prepared to sell it and I think it's been taken as a sign that this is the right time and that it would be a good idea to sell both homes at the same time, and I'm ok with that, like I said - so long as they're happy.

So there you have it, that's my somewhat crazy life at the moment.

I will get back to blogging properly soon - I promise, I just need to get everything sorted in my life first!

xox

HarrietCorey

An Update:

I wrote this a while ago, several weeks ago in fact and I did post it, but even though I managed to write down everything that was happening I didn’t feel like I could actually post it – however since writing this post Sirius has passed away. It’s been a few weeks since my mum called me crying and I can safely say that even though I’ve spent two weeks at home since I haven’t come to terms with it, he’s been such a massive part of my life that whilst at home I kept imagining him, I’d throw some food on the floor and leave it for him only to walk back into the room and realise he didn’t clean it up. I kept hearing him shuffling around the house and countless times I would run downstairs to let him into the house if it was raining. I think that’s been the hardest bit, the two weeks where I was home and the house was still so full of him, his toys, his memory, it’s like he was still there with us and I know the rest of my family felt the same. That’s not to say I don’t miss him terribly, I’ve been trying not to think about him too much because if I do then it takes a while to stop and carry on with the day. But now I feel like I can post this to the world and say hey – this is what has happened in my life, thank goodness for my friends, my family and my boyfriend for all being there for me through this. I know it’s been hard but without them I really wouldn’t have coped.