This weekend, I spent several hours in a group discussing endings.
We were all over the theory, discussing separation, loss, dependency, avoidance, even anger. All through the lens of a case study none of us belonged to. It only struck me afterwards that not once did we mention that our own group was also approaching an ending.
Instead, we leant into a peer assessment activity, speaking thoughtfully about one another’s contribution to the group, how people showed up, and what mattered. Looking back now, it seems rather poignant that we could show our appreciation so openly for each other without ever mentioning we would meet only once more as a group.
This is not unique to our group and is often how endings happen.
No big fanfare or dramatic declarations, but instead endings happen indirectly through single-minded focus on completing a task, black humour, silence or even absence. We speak around endings before we can speak into them
More recently I have been thinking about a question I was asked when interviewing years ago for a hospice leadership role: how would I manage working with endings that may never feel neat or complete?
At the time I understood it as a question about professional competence.
Only later did I come to understand it more as a metaphor for life itself.
