Nightmare.

 We were due to move to our forever home last Wednesday.

We exchanged and completed on our home last Tuesday.

Tuesday morning we were informed the seller of our new house killed himself!

We were made homeless.

I'd lost my favourite home, a house I wasn't even keen on selling.

We were only moving to be closer to Jon's work and have an extra room for Bea.

Now we have no rooms for anyone.

We left our beautiful home in a whirlwind of stress and pain, Jon was going to dig up my roses and peonies that I planted after the miscarriages we suffered but he didn't have time and totally forgot.

Now the heartache I have at the thought someone may dig them up and chuck them away slowly kills me inside.

We have been fortunate enough for Jon's parents to squeeze us into their home, helping to keep the boys at school, even though I had arranged brand new schools for them which they should have been starting today.

We have been on a brand new house hunt and luckily had another offer accepted, but they haven't got anywhere to move into yet and it's not a house that I fell in love with when I first saw it, I know it has the potential to be amazing and I am looking forward to doing it up but with the stress haze over my eyes I am finding it difficult to become excited.

We've tried to look for rented accommodation but there's nothing around!

We have only been out of our house for 5 days and I'm missing it terribly.

I hate seeing all our life packed up in boxes that have no date to when they'll be unpacked.

I hate feeling we are getting in the way.

I really hate the fact that someone killed themselves and we're a factor in it!