I just read a book called The Sense of an Ending. I am not recommending it. I fiercely hated the book. The main character was so thoroughly unlikable and I wanted very bad things to happen to him. But hey. This post is not about him or the book he lives in. It’s only about his title. I love the musicality of that title.
Since I read the book, and since I am facing some pretty significant endings, I keep thinking about endings: the kind of endings you can see coming, not the sudden, unexpected ones – that’s a different topic for a different day.
Some things have no ending. My life is a lot of that. And I like it very much – thank you.
My marriage is never ending. Ho boy. That sounds bad and grueling – doesn’t it? I don’t mean it that way. I lurv me my man. And I am glad he is stuck with me forever. Parenting never ends. Ever. You knew that right? Practicing my religion is a forever deal – also, a good thing, and by my explicit choice.
But some things end and the ending of things can be so, so good. My school is ending. Tomorrow actually. I will never not have a Master’s Degree again after tomorrow. My awesome job is ending at the end of this month, at least for me. Someone else will take it and it will be their beginning.
I like endings. I have never once been sad at a book ending, whether it was all resolved, cliff-hanging, happy or sad. I like books to end. I like to finish things. I like counting down. I like the anticipation of ending, the thrill of a new thing beginning. What will fill the space where the old thing was? The sense of an ending feels like a breeze to me – not a breeze as in an easy thing, but a breeze as in a soft wind moving the hair off your neck, making you look up and around.
So, here’s to endings. Mine and yours. Look up and around.