On Endings

There is something about endings that we often struggle to face.

We leave quietly.

We disappear.

We tell ourselves it doesn’t matter.

Or we leave abruptly, as if cutting something off will make it simpler.

But endings are rarely simple.

How we end things reveals something about how we relate. Not only to others, but to ourselves. To what we can tolerate. To what feels too much to stay with.

An ending asks something of us.

To pause, even when we want to move on.

To feel what is there, even when it is uncomfortable.

To recognise that something mattered.

This is not always easy.

Sometimes there is hurt.

Sometimes there is disappointment.

Sometimes there is a sense of being misunderstood, or not met in the way we had hoped.

In those moments, the pull to leave quickly can be strong.

Or we leave in rage, holding tightly to our position, certain of our rightness.

We may leave as the one who has been wronged, with no room left to consider the other.

Endings can pull us back into familiar patterns.

The ways we have learnt to protect ourselves.

To defend.

To withdraw.

To hold on to a version of the story that keeps us intact.

And yet, there may be another possibility.

To pause, even briefly, and allow for something more complex to emerge.

To leave room for the other.

To recognise that there may be more than one truth present.

I have come to see that ending is not a single moment. It is a process.

It can hold contradiction.

Care and frustration.

Connection and distance.

Clarity and confusion.

To end something with care is not about making it neat. It is about allowing complexity, and still choosing how we leave.

There is a quiet kind of courage in this.

To say: this mattered.

To say: this was difficult.

To say: I am leaving.

And perhaps also, to recognise our own part in it.

To loosen our grip on certainty, even slightly.

To step away from blame, without needing to collapse into fault.

Not all endings will feel fair. Not all will feel complete. Sometimes the timing does not align. Sometimes one person is ready before the other.

But even then, something is being expressed in how we end.

Do we withdraw without a trace, or do we leave something acknowledged?

Do we protect ourselves by closing down, or do we remain just open enough to recognise what has been shared?

There is no perfect way to end.

But there may be a way that feels more honest.

A way that does not require us to deny what we felt.

A way that allows us to carry something forward, even if it is only a quiet understanding.

Because perhaps endings are not only about letting go.

They are also about how we choose to remember.