Last night was the last night before he moves out for good. He stayed over. We slept in the same bed. Well, we lay in the same bed, but I don’t think that either of us slept. It was a warm night and his body felt hot to the touch, but I held him for much of the night anyway.

I held it together most of the morning. I took the dog into the garden and played with her. I drank coffee and ate some breakfast. I even did a few jobs around the house.

The plan for the day was for me to go to Clevedon to remember my nan and do what I would have done with my mum – celebrate both of them really, in a way. I’ll be meeting my brother and little nephews.

I packed up the dog’s poo bags and drink … then it was time.

I went to my husband and held him and held him and he held me.

Then they came: great heart-breaking, body-wracking sobs.

I was crying like I hadn’t cried since my mum died.

He was crying too.

We stayed like that for ages.

I wanted to say “please don’t go”, but it was too late for such things.

If we are ever to be together again, I deeply feel that we must first be apart for a while.

Such aching in my heart.

Eventually, I had to go.

I squeezed him one last time, and shut the front door.

He will leave the house while I’m out today.

I know his pain.

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The drive to Clevedon was probably the second worst drive of my life. The worst was when I was told that my mum was dying.

I shouldn’t have got in the car when I did, I was too emotional. I put on the “tunes that make me smile” playlist, but so many of the songs were joint favourites. A few I had to skip because I was too emotional – the worst was the crummy version (which I don’t even like) of “My Love, My Life” from Mamma Mia 2. It nearly did me in.

I really wasn’t concentrating – the emotional noise in my heart was deafening – and got zapped doing 90mph by a mobile speed camera.

The nephews distracted me though – they are gorgeous and fun!

Talking with my brother nearly broke me again – talking is difficult, very, very difficult.

The day with family distracted me though.

I took the long road home, slower and much more scenic – and I never speed on normal roads – only motorways because they are hideously boring and so easy to lose focus on.

The house was so empty when I got in, but the radio was still playing and the darling doggy would not let me slump into a heap.

Her love is uncomplicated and restorative.

My poor husband is on his own.

I hope his flat’s innocence of our history heals him.

I must heal in this house, with the weight of its history haunting me.