Yesterday I had a meeting with the lawyer that wil be handling Grandma's estate. He was very pleasant man and our relatively short meeting went well. The main thing was for me to hand over the keys to Grandma's apartment.
He asked me if I was sure. I said I was, that I was prepared to do this. So when we left, he locked Grandma's door.
I'm not going back.
I will never be able to go back.
It hurts more than I realized it would. I got home, and thought about it, and started to bawl out loud. It's OK to hurt, though. It's part of the grieving process, it's a necessary "milestone". At some point I would have had to give up the key, the access to Grandma's home, so it may as well be now.
The door is shut and all that has been for so many years is shut with it.