You think about when you read a really good book and come to the last page, knowing the satisfaction and yet yearning for more. Or sometimes the ending seems like it will never get here, when we sit through boring lectures or when we stand in a long line that seems to snake and curl round and round, unsure of where or when we will reach the end.

By Dana Gornall

My youngest child graduated from college this past weekend.

We sat in the crowded stands—the same building and bleachers we sat in a few years ago to watch her cheer at the college basketball games—and listened as each student took the stage. At the time, I wasn’t really thinking about how this was the end—a punctuation mark at the end of a sentence.

I wasn’t thinking about her early days in the toddler room at daycare, or the first and last days of preschool, or choir performances in elementary school.

I wasn’t thinking about sitting in the bleachers in the small Catholic school gym as she dove for a volleyball or the early morning drives as she and her siblings pointed out the same kids walking to school each day.

I wasn’t thinking about her first day at junior high, or her first winter formal, or her first and last Varsity game or even her high school graduation in 2020, that was not a typical ceremony when the world had shut down.

I wasn’t thinking about any of that. I was just thinking that this ceremony seemed to be dragging a bit and that the bleachers were uncomfortable, and about what we would be doing after it was over.

That’s the funny thing about endings—we don’t really think much about them in the moment until they are over.

I’ve been through so many endings—some barely a blip in my memory and others that have branded their presence in the deepest parts of my brain. My own high school graduation, sitting in that gym knowing that I would never see some of these people again. My dad taking his last breath and that wave of sadness yet also—oddly—relief that comes, when you know someone has lived their life fully and it truly was time. The time our family dog passed away. The moment of when it all clicked and I knew my marriage was over.

Endings are a complicated thing.

You think about when you read a really good book and come to the last page, knowing the satisfaction and yet yearning for more. Or sometimes the ending seems like it will never get here, when we sit through boring lectures or when we stand in a long line that seems to snake and curl round and round, unsure of where or when we will reach the end.

I’m supposed to be writing on Metta and the practice of loving-kindness and yet my mind keeps trailing to how things end. It’s no wonder because I feel like endings are front in present so much right now.

A few weeks ago we witnessed a horrific, tragic ending of our one year old puppy’s life. Our other dog’s mouth had gotten caught in his collar while they were playing. The panic of both dogs was intense and we tried and tried to get the collar to release. We finally managed cutting with a knife and got the collar off but it was too late.

Grief downpoured over our lives for days afterward. I truly don’t have the words for how I felt. And here a few weeks after, there is a pit embedded deep in my heart for that sweet puppy, that I feel I will never truly get over.

So what does Metta have to do with grief and endings?

Well, there are many versions of the Metta prayer, but one of the most common phrases are:

May all beings being safe and protected from harm.

May each and every being be healthy.

May each being be at ease and happy.

May all beings be strong and confident.

We can change the we to “I” or sometimes the phrases are expanded on, but regardless the general nature is always the same. Because, we all do experience feelings of fear and being unsafe. We all are touched by illness. We can feel week and insecure.

This Metta prayer is a touching point to come back to for ourselves and others because as Buddhists we know The Four Nobles Truths.

The truth of suffering.

The truth of the cause of suffering.

The truth of the end of suffering.

The truth of the path that leads to the end of suffering.

So how do we deal with the endings that are hard? How do we accept the endings that are bittersweet or the ones we see are coming? How do we stop and process the endings that we don’t want to come or the endings that feel like they will never come?

We accept.

We wish and pray the metta prayer for ourselves and those around us. We pause in the memory. We take note of where we are in that moment, whether it is the end of something we have been hoping to end or the end of something we never wanted to end. Because no matter what, things will end. And things will begin again—not the same but something just as beautiful, or daunting, or fun or challenging.

In my grief of our puppy recently dying I came across the meaning of the willow tree:

A large tree with long, flowing branches and leaves, the willow tree often symbolizes flexibility and adaptability. The limber and supple nature of its extremities means it bends to accommodate and withstand strong winds and adverse weather. Many, therefore, see it as inspiring and symbolic of humans’ capability to withstand hardship, loss, and difficult emotions. Thanks to its long life and the ease with which new trees can be rooted from cuttings, the willow tree is also seen as a survivor and a symbol of rebirth.

So I plan to name our next dog, Willow, in honor of our other puppy’s life and passing and the rebirth that happens afterward. Because in the aftermath of that grief I saw our family come together as a whole. Just as in the closing of my daughter’s college graduation we all came together to eat and drink and share stories. That’s what we do in the endings, just as we do in new beginnings.

Because sunsets are beautiful at the end of our days and stars that burn brightly are burning because they are dying. Because the next day the sun rises again and because those last lyrics of the song always bring goosebumps to our skin.

Because even in the end, we will find a place to start over.

May you be safe, may you be happy, may you be healthy, may you be strong.

 

“When the karma of a relationship is done, only love remains. It’s safe. Let go.” ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

 

Photo: Pixabay

 

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