Well, the day has finally arrived. She is still in bed and has no idea what lies in store for her. Yesterday was very difficult as brother and I had to break the news to her best friend, who is still beaten up due to a fall the previous day. How does it feel to make a 96yo cry? Absolutely horrendous. Not for the first time that day, I was in shreds too. Victoria saw Mum yesterday evening for a couple of hours and was very brave and didn’t spill the beans. I drove her home at 8.45 after Mum went to bed and there were a few more tears - for her it is the end on an era. For us all, really. I also took Mum’s things to the CH yesterday afternoon. They have swapped the room that she will occupy. This one is noticeably smaller although equally nicely decorated and a marginally better view. It has a single bed in it, which is electronic so she can sit up in bed if she wanted. Of course she would never remember how to operate it and all I did was begin to worry, as she is used to a double, that she may fall out and break some bones. We had been planning to take a favourite chair but we couldn’t fit in either my or brother’s car. As it was, the room would be too small to comfortably accommodate it anyway. Whilst I was unpacking, a resident called David, in a room opposite Mum’s was wandering about and I could hear staff saying (kindly) “David, that’s not your room. David THAT’s not your room either” and I had visions of Mum waking up to see a strange man looming over her bed. He also seemed to keep setting off the room alarm calling for attention even though staff had just been with him and the constant peeping will drive Mum insane. Creeping misgivings the entire afternoon. I realise I may very well may be looking for excuses to change our minds. I certainly spent all day yesterday fervently hoping we could forget all about it and carry on as normal. So this morning, the normal morning routine will be followed until 10.15 at which time I will have to excuse myself BUT not before thinking of a ruse to get her slippers off her! If I can also get her favourite photo and her carriage clock without her noticing, I will. Then it is off to the care home with the final bits and pieces and flowers to await her arrival at 11. My brother will be bringing her as I just cannot be there when she exits her home of 45 years for the last time. How can one be bright, cheerful and positive in front of her after witnessing that? I can’t so I will be the TA-DAH! welcoming party. Feeling sick. Must stock up on tissues on the way back as I fear I shall get through boxes over the next couple of days.