As I walked away from my childhood home I still couldn't quite comprehend everything that I had now lost. I should of been there. It should of been me falling into a permanent slumber alongside the ones I love. I never wanted to do this fuckin nightshift anyway, I'm assuming ive now reached stage two of the grieving process, Is that right? Anger comes after shock? I'm not sure I think il just role with it. The nursing agency I work for pestered me about this damn nightshift, the ward was really struggling for staff... When are wards not struggling in this day and age? I decided to just give in, Christmas Eve nightshift means extra money after all. Why not? What's the worst that could happen? Sure il be tired for Christmas Day but a few hours in bed and a few whiskeys when I'm awake, problem solved.

Christmas Eve is family sleepover night, we all gather at the parents house watch Christmas movies and stay there, my mum and dad, my brother and his wife and my boyfriend and me. Even the fuckin dogs have a sleepover with us. What I wasn't counting on was finishing what can only be described as a brutal nightshift, looking forward to Christmas with the ones I love and coming home to an absolute trainwreck, one that I will never ever forget, nor will I truly get over. Apparently carbon monoxide decided to take everything away from me, my whole family, including the dogs drifted slowly away last night into a "peaceful" sleep, according to the paramedics, while I was sitting with the loved ones of others caring for them. Kind of poetic isn't it?