Endings Are Hard

There was a television show that we watched religiously as a family from the time that Elannah Rose was relatively little. It was a family event which we scheduled our lives around whichever night of the week it was on before Netflix became a thing. We even named our pets after the charactors in the show.

Sunday night I watched the very last episode of this show. I could not stop crying from the moment the episode started. It is the end of something we shared with someone we cannot share anything with anymore and as silly as it may be, it felt monumental. I haven't been able to shake this new wave of sadness.

Endings are hard. Even stupid ones.

Beginnings can be hard, too. Beginning a new year. Beginning a new adventure. Watching the kids begin new phases of life that, at this point, she will never experience.

There is a behind the scenes melancholy that sticks with us. It lies dormant sometimes, but without fail something triggers it. It’s invariably a little thing which in another life, another situation, we would not look twice at. It is part of our human experience.  That melancholy or full blown mourning lives in the back of my head and in my heart, like a poisonous snake waiting to strike.

It’s what reminds me that whatever else happens in my life, I survived the loss of my child. I can survive the next thing, and the thing after that. Even if a TV show coming to an end can bring me to my knees.

Carry On My Wayword Son - Kansas