I'm not entirely sure what this feeling is, but I think they call it closure.

The moment I realised I was hanging around for an apology that will neverbe forthcoming, I knew it was time to close that door.

I finally reached the point where I could determine between willful denial of the past and ridding myself of unneccesary weight, all it needed was a couple of hours tending to a fire.

It seems an oddly random time, though it actually makes a lot of sense to me, if you can't figure it out for yourself: you know where I live, and if you don't know where I live then you probably don't get to find out.