Pretty much the most heartbreaking experience of my life.

Thanks to my dad realising that no-one in my family was going to be getting much sleep for the next few days, he picked me and I was to our local hospice by 7.30.

I never got why my brother didn't want to die at home, but the hospice is a nice place. I mean, it can't exactly be a nice place because of what happens there but...You get my drift.

I had planned to spend the whole day there because my parents were but I just couldn't do it. I mean, sat in my brothers room, it was just so heartbreaking.

He wasn't awake at all when I was there, which was probably a good thing. I just sat there with my mum and held his hand. My dad was somewhere arranging things...A priest to come tonight. Plans for Sam's funeral.

This shouldn't be happening!

I had hoped that at the hospice it would feel...peaceful, you know? But it didn't, not in my brothers room. It just felt sad and awkward. That's why I couldn't bear to stay. I couldn't bear the atmosphere there.

I did brush Sam's hair for him before I left, which seems so random, but when he was having chemo a few years back he lost his hair and ever since it grew long enough for him to style he's been so obsessed with it. They'd just left it, so I made it look what he would consider suitible been seen with, haha...I'm sure if he was able to he'd have the straighteners out. I could just imagine. "Hey, no one's seeing my fringe like that - No matter how sick I am!".

It upsets me to think he'll probably never joke with me again.

This is all so emotionally tiring. I don't know how my parents are doing it, being there day and night with him. I think I'm going back again this evening, once I've had a bit of a breather...It's all too heartbreaking for words.