When Endings Stop Feeling Like Loss and Start Feeling Like Light

For most of my life, endings felt like tiny heartbreaks.

I dreaded the end of a friend’s visit, the last morning of vacation, the final bite of a meal someone made with love, or the closing session of a conference that filled me up in ways I did not expect. Even the final chapter of a book I adored or the last episode of a series that made me feel seen could stir that familiar ache.

I often felt the grief of the ending long before it actually arrived.

I would begin counting down, bracing myself, and preparing for the “after.” Without realizing it, I was stealing pieces of joy from the moments I was still living.

It took me years to understand why endings hit me so hard.

The closing of something good often felt like loss, even when nothing bad was happening. For me, that heaviness was rooted in trauma—rejection, abandonment, and the lived experience of things ending suddenly or painfully. When your nervous system has been shaped by unpredictability, endings do not feel natural. They feel like warning signs.

But life, and the gentle people placed along my path, started teaching me something different.

I watched friends who were able to remain present right up until the last moment. They did not rush, cling, or count down. They allowed the moment to be what it was. Their steadiness showed me that endings are not inherently dangerous. Sometimes they are simply transitions and markers of something that mattered.

Over time, as I healed and grew, endings began to soften.

I started grounding myself with simple questions that gently pulled me back into the present. I would ask, “What joy do I hope to find today?” or take note of the glimmers that warmed my heart. These small practices created more space inside me than I ever expected.

Now—and this still surprises me—I actually appreciate endings.

Not because I want things to be over, but because endings remind me that I showed up. They tell me that I was present enough to enjoy the story and open enough to let the moment, the relationship, the trip, the book, or the show shape me in some meaningful way.

Endings have become one of my favorite parts because they shine.

They whisper, “That mattered.”

They remind me how intentionally I noticed what was given to me.

They inspire me to keep opening my heart, to keep savoring what is here, and to keep believing that more goodness is ahead.

I no longer brace myself for loss.

I honor what was.

I carry the warmth forward.

I trust what is still to come.

Because endings are not the opposite of joy.

Sometimes, they are the proof of it.