Ben McEwing
How do you do endings?
Lately, I’ve been moving through a series of endings.
I completed my four-year master’s degree in Gestalt therapy. I said goodbye to my small group of Year Four peers in an intimate ritual space. I co-facilitated a group process that came to a natural, emotional close. I participated in a five-day residential where many groups experienced their own kind of ending. And I was present at the final day of the Path of Love retreat, where endings are not just acknowledged, but deliberately crafted.
Each one had its own flavour: some celebratory, some quiet, some focused on integration. All carried the same invitation: be here for this.
And I was.
What has stayed with me isn’t just the events themselves, but my willingness to meet them fully. To show up for the goodbye, the closure, the transition; not by rushing through or numbing out, but by being deeply present.
There were tears. Laughter. Hugs. Silences. Words spoken with care and weight. The meeting of eyes. The recognition that something important was being transmitted in this moment.
And woven through it all was gratitude. Connection. Reverence.
What struck me most, especially in spaces where we explicitly named “how we do endings,” is just how varied we are. Some people want to linger. Others need to bolt. Some avoid the feelings until they can be alone. Some need structure, ritual, acknowledgment. Others want to quietly slip away.
There’s no right way to end, but there is such a thing as skipping it entirely.
And that’s where things get lost.
In a culture that’s obsessed with the next thing, the big thing, the fast thing, it’s easy to miss the sacredness of an ending. We move on without pause. Without reflection. Without closure. And often, without letting the other person, or ourselves, know what it meant.
When we don’t give endings their space, something lingers.
There’s a backlog of emotion. Unspoken appreciation. Avoided pain.
Eventually, it shows up somewhere else, often in ways we don’t expect.
But when we do honour an ending, something remarkable happens.
The connection deepens, even as it dissolves.
The experience integrates.
And we are free to move forward with clarity, not residue.
As we near the end of the calendar year, a time that carries its own energy of closure, it’s worth asking:
What are you completing?
What needs to be acknowledged?
What, or who, deserves a proper ending?
Maybe the most human thing we can do this season is slow down just long enough to say:
This mattered. You mattered. And I’m grateful.
Who is Melis Senova?
I am a coach and advisor to design leaders, C-level executives and leaders in government. My work in This Human is dedicated to the next generation of designers and leaders.
When you’re ready, here’s how I can help you:
Building confidence in your practice is essential for progress. Get started for free with this workbook.
This human community is a place for you to land, connect and learn. It’s free, and it’s yours.