Twelve years ago, I spent my final night in my childhood home. I was twenty years old, sitting beside my Dad, crying with laughter together as we watched clips of Rhod Gilbert’s luggage sketch. It was a sad goodbye to the only home I had ever really known, but our final memories there were overflowing with joy.

Tonight, once again, I sit with tears in my eyes on the evening that marks my last night at Parkland Close after almost 10 years.  These walls hold precious memories with all of the people closest to my heart, but most importantly, in Parkland Close I remember my Dad.

In this house, I grew from a Biomed undergrad to a Senior Consultant in Pharma. I made a hole in the kitchen ceiling when I nearly fell through it. I have cooked seven Christmas dinners in this kitchen. We have known four sets of wonderful neighbours… and one set quite the opposite!

I have been both the best and the worst version of myself in this house. Despite the abundance of blessings in my life, truth be told, I have experienced the deepest sadness I have ever known here. Parkland Close has been a safe place to break, and a private space for healing.

So tonight I cherish these final moments alongside my diamond husband and our two fluff-ball cats. Tomorrow, when I lock the door for the final time, I will leave behind the version of myself that accepted surviving rather than thriving. What I will take with me is pride in my achievements, a genuine belief that the best is yet to come, and above all else, the spirit and love of my hilarious, headstrong, and courageous Father.

Farewell, Parkland Close. Thank you for looking after me.

by Laura-Jane Worthington