Isn’t it so funny that when you’re close to the end of something, you suddenly see it with so much love and clarity? It’s like all your senses awaken, making you conscious of details that usually would have sunk beneath the surface. This is why ending things is so difficult, for as Virginia Woolf had once mused, the closer you get to death, the more you want to live. (She probably articulated it in a much finer way.)
You’re breaking up with someone and when you tell them you no longer want them, suddenly you wonder if their eyes were always so startlingly blue, or they had such a wonderful smile. You are ending a job and on your last day you realize how wonderful it was to express yourself through your words in the hopes of reaching your audience. You say goodbye to a home and when you’re locking it up for the last time, you muse you’ll actually miss those annoying traffic sounds that used to keep you awake.
These moments of clarity sometimes tempt us into holding onto the experience. They’re like a child begging us to review, reconsider, not let go… But nowadays I like to think that those thoughts and feelings are mere shrapnel of an alternative life I am not choosing. All they are, are reminders of beauty in lost things. They don’t mean that we should change our minds, but just that we are wise enough to know that there exists something special and worthy in everything, even a sad, bitter goodbye.