And I'm washed out by the whole experience.
This happens every year. I get so involved in the development of the companions' characters that the end of a series of Doctor Who usually involves a box of tissues along the line somewhere. Maybe for the silent tears that roll down my face, like last year. Maybe for the heaving sobs that heralded the end of Series 2. Maybe even for tears of joy, like last night's episode, when I really though it might be alright and that Donna had fulfilled her destiny without a sacrifice.
That misconception lasted for a full minute until I realised there was still 10 minutes to go and the whole team had already saved the Universe and this is Russell T Davies, after all.
So, Rose has a comfort for her old age, who does actually seem capable of loving her back, but who isn't actually the Doctor while the amazing Donna is cruelly left in the state we first found her in 18 months ago - shallow, shouty and with absolutley no idea of the feisty, brainy, compassionate woman she could be, with a mother who doesn't seem to mind and a Grandad* who actually noticed the difference and will mourn it for the rest of his days.
Oh bloody hell, even as I type, I'm welling up.
Let's hope the departure of RTD doesn't mark the end of an era.
*Bernard Cribbins deserves a BAFTA