The Ends

I have been thinking about the end lately. I believe that it comes from the end of the school year at our neighborhood elementary, the friend that is facing the end of his job, and the end of a friendship.

Philosophically, I know that if things have no end, there would be no time or space for something new. That in almost every end, there’s a new beginning.

The end of the school year is the beginning of summer vacation. The end of a job is the start of retirement, or the start of a job search. The end of a friendship is…. I’m not sure. I look back at friendships that I have had that have ended and they have almost always ended by drifting away, a fade-out. (I leave out the ones that have ended by the death of a friend). Deliberately ending a friendship is something with I don’t have a lot of experience, and something that I probably avoid at all costs. In the end, I wrote a letter, and didn’t send it. It turned out, in the end, not to be necessary. It was a kind and true letter, it stated how I felt (always using ‘I’ statements), expressed what was good, and what wasn’t, and why I felt there was nothing good left for me.

True, kind, necessary. A device attributed to the Buddha, to Socrates, and probably others. For myself, what I wrote met all three. The writing provided a clarity for myself alone. For the other person, I’m not certain. What will happen to this friendship will be a further fading out, for me more purposeful. I feel a bit sad that it will end without the clarity of what I wrote. I suppose there’s always a possibility that it’s a break, and not the end. I have no way of knowing.

Second blog post in a row about friends. It tells you something about my friendships, surely.

So, my friend, would you please do something for me? Get out your mobile phone and enter this contact: National Suicide Prevention Hotline 800-273-8255 Share it with your friends. I hope you don’t need it, just like I hope if you have first aid or CPR training you never need to use it. Ripple that contact out there.

Shalom,
Harold

(oh, and hey fellow ponderers: Why is it that ropes have ends, and never a beginning?)