I took the day off. I stayed in bed. I wait for Boyfriend to leave the house, voluntary work, the pub. I sit, I lay, I cry.
I want her to come back. I can't forgive myself for leaving her, small figure standing in the doorway, waving goodbye, alone. I didn't even think of her, not really, my mind so full of ideas of reclaiming my old life, returning home. I forgot that she was really my first home, Nan's house, cuddling on her lap, hot water bottles and warm lemon when I was ill.
I left it all behind and now she is gone and I can't turn back time, no matter how much I wish I could, no matter how much I beg and bargain with Gods I don't believe in.
I phoned them tonight, Samaritans. I sobbed, I'm barely coherent, everyone goes through guilt when they are grieving.
Not like me I say, I am to blame. I left her. Grandad told me, a few weeks before the overdose, I know you are busy but don't forget about your Nan. I forgot her, I left her. Now she is gone too.