Endings

Endings are difficult for me. I love potential. This deep rooted love guides many of my feelings. Potential means that anything is possible. As a person who has committed her life to story, creating something from nothing is what I do. It’s a magic I believe in, and anything being possible is the heart of this magic. This makes endings complicated. Endings are the death of potential. Not always, of course there are certain times when it’s only a partial death, but still, death. Death is a word that makes my heart slow with sadness and fear. Death to potential is something that makes me feel deep sorrow. Within a project or at the end of a show, I will and have done anything to delay the end. I also love to focus on the ways those things aren’t ending. A theater performance is only done if you stop working on that character, or so I say. Any mental back-flip I can use to avoid admitting the end will do.

For the last while, I have been spending much time focusing on myself and how I work. Part of this work was realizing that I had many, many almost done projects. They just needed to be filed away so that I could reference them again if I wished. These almost done projects weighed on me. They took up brain space and I needed a way to clear some of that space out. I needed to finish the projects, but that meant embracing the end. So I created a form, trying to encourage myself to celebrate the end. I love definitions, so I looked up the word eulogy, below is what I found.

 

Definition of eulogy

  1. :  a commendatory (compliment, praise, recommend as worthy) oration or writing especially in honor of one deceased she delivered the eulogy at his funeral
  2. :  high praise

 

That didn’t sound so bad, “honor” and “high praise,” I could do that. So I began the process of finishing my almost done projects. It felt amazing. I still have several to go, but I have begun to embrace endings. They are healthy and good. A good story is so much about its’ ending, how it leaves you.

I was on the road to acceptance and then a different kind of death came to visit my life. A distant aunt passed away and then my husband’s grandfather also passed away. I was forced to look at the leftover items from others I had lost in recent years. Gifts sent after their passing, by those that remained and unopened cards of condolence.

The death of a person is the ultimate end of potential. Even if you believe in an afterlife, the potential for that person as they were on this plane of existence is done forever. As a lover of potential, this is hard for me, forever done.

As I have comforted my husband these past months, a thought occurred to me. I was reminded of the feeling I had as I finished the almost done projects. Finishing them changed how I felt about them. Yes, they were done and the potential for them was done, but something shifted in my feelings about those projects. They didn’t weigh on me anymore, leaving room for the projects I am actively working on. I started to wonder if I needed to do something for those I had lost. As it is now, all that exists when I think about them is sorrow.

That eulogy definition came to my mind. There is no sorrow there. The perspective is one of hope and honor. It’s almost forward thinking. Maybe there is something in the process of taking time to honor them and their memory that shifts feelings from sorrow to something else.

It feels horrible thinking of releasing the sorrow to make room for those still alive in my life. I don’t want to forget those who have died. They mattered to me. Their lives mattered.

I have to believe however that there must be a way of somehow honoring them and letting go of the pain. Letting go I think is the important phrase in that last sentence. I have to learn to let go and embrace the something else that awaits me when I do.

So I think from time to time I will write eulogies for the things and people I lose and post them here. One small step in letting go and accepting the death of potential.

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