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At the start of this year, my granddad died. He left behind a gorgeous legacy and his funeral was packed to the brim. We were devastated at the loss and a lot of tears and hugs were shared at the funeral of a man that was deeply loved by his family and community alike.

I still miss him, go to call him and share his stories every single day. If you need to hear a story about a cheeky Scouse scamp, hit me up.

We didn’t just lose him, though. Our nan died back in 2014 and what had been the family home for over 40 years was soon to leave us, too. I have moved 22 times in 35 years and my only permanent ‘family home’ has been this terraced house in Bootle.

Soon, it won’t be ours anymore.

Which feels wild, right? This isn’t just a house on a street, this was the house central to our lives. It was within walking distance of primary school. It’s right next to the best chippy in or around Liverpool (not formally verified, just my opinion).

We celebrated births, weddings, and achievements here. We watched gameshows and the Friends finale here. We had family Christmases here and after I moved to Scotland, I would come home to everyone in my grandparent’s house every couple of months.

It wasn’t just a family home, it was the keeper of our lives, the home of our hearts and now, we need to sell it. It’s unfathomable. It feels like a betrayal to my grandparents.

But, why does it? It isn’t a home without them, it can’t be replicated now that my grandparents are gone.

I spoke with Bianca Neumann, Clinical Director of Grief and Bereavement at national palliative care and bereavement charity, Sue Ryder to learn more.

It can feel like a secondary loss

Neumann explains: “For many of us, a house isn’t just bricks and mortar, it is a memory box of life........

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