The End...

Because sometimes, the end is exactly where we’re meant to start again...

Dear Readers,

Even when my mom passed away, I used to check up on my father when he was alone. He would always say, “Jacob, I am alone, it looks like the house is coming to eat me.” I didn’t understand what he meant back then, But I knew it was just his way of expressing grief or loneliness. But after my dad passed away I now know, sitting in this quiet room with nothing but my thoughts, I know exactly what he meant. The walls feel alive, closing in on me, suffocating me with memories I’d rather forget.

I never thought I’d find myself in this place emotionally and physically. It’s strange how life puts you in situations you once believed you were immune to. I used to think I was stronger than this, that I could handle anything life threw at me. But here I am, staring at the emptiness, wondering if this is how it all ends.

There was a time when I believed in forever. Forever friendships, forever love, forever dreams. But as I sit here now, I realize how fragile those notions were. Life has a cruel way of showing you that forever is just another word for temporary.

Endings make you question everything, your decisions, your worth, even your purpose. Sitting here tonight, I asked myself over and over, Why wasn’t I enough? It’s a dangerous question, one that takes you down a spiral of self-doubt and blame. But I couldn’t help it.

The truth is, it wasn’t just the relationship that ended that night. It was the belief that I could hold everything together if I just tried hard enough. It was the belief that my efforts, my love, and my intentions could make someone stay. But life doesn’t work that way, does it?

People leave, and people die. Things fall apart. Dreams fade. And yet, the world keeps spinning as if none of it matters.

In the days that followed, I tried to find meaning in the pain. I told myself that endings were a natural part of life, that they made way for new beginnings. But in my heart, I wasn’t ready for new beginnings. I was still clinging to the remnants of what was, hoping for a miracle that would undo the hurt and bring back the joy I had lost.

I thought back to my father’s words about the house coming to eat him. He wasn’t just talking about grief or loneliness he was talking about the emptiness that comes when you lose something or someone who once filled your life. The house was never alive, but the memories inside it were. And when those memories turn into reminders of what you’ve lost, they can consume you.

I began to wonder if I, too, was being consumed by the memories of what once was. The laughter, the shared moments, the promises all felt like ghosts haunting me, refusing to let me move on.

It wasn’t until I started journaling pouring my thoughts and emotions onto paper that I began to see things differently. Endings, I realized, aren’t just about loss. They’re about transformation. They force you to confront your deepest fears and insecurities. They strip away the illusions and leave you with nothing but raw truth.

One morning, as I watched the sun rise over the horizon, I felt something I hadn’t felt in weeks: hope. It wasn’t loud or overwhelming, but it was there a faint whisper reminding me that life isn’t over just because one chapter ends.

I began to see the beauty in endings. They’re painful, yes, but they also clear the way for something new. They teach you to appreciate what you have, even as you learn to let it go. They remind you that you are resilient, capable of weathering the storms and emerging stronger on the other side.

I thought of my father again, of how he found ways to keep living even after my mom passed. He would sit in the garden, tending to her favorite flowers, talking to them as if she were listening or he would make regular visits to the cemetery to the grave. He found his way, even when he thought the house would eat him alive. Maybe I could do the same.

Now, when I look back on that evening, I no longer see it as the end of my story. It was the end of a chapter, yes, but not the book. There are still pages left to write, adventures to embark on, and dreams to chase.

Life is unpredictable, full of twists and turns we can’t always control. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the beauty of life lies in its impermanence, in the way it constantly challenges us to adapt, grow, and find meaning in the chaos.

So, is this the end? No. It’s just the beginning of something new a story I have yet to discover, a journey I’m learning to embrace.

Reflection

Endings hurt, but they also heal. They remind us of our strength, our resilience, and our capacity for growth. So, if you’re amid your ending, know this: it’s okay to grieve, to feel lost, and to take your time finding your way. But don’t let the end define you. Let it be the foundation for your next beginning.

Because sometimes, the end is exactly where we’re meant to start again.

Jacob M