Things end. All of them. And sometimes that's just perfectly okay with me. Other times not.
For the good, my first semester as a prof is wrapping up. Overall, it's been a great semester. I've had almost exclusively good students, the pressure has been manageable, my colleagues friendly and helpful. But I'm still glad it's almost over. I am ready not to be new new new at everything everything everything. I'm ready to start fresh, having learned some lessons during my first run-through at the university where I teach. This ending is good.
Other endings? Not good. Not in the least little bit good. My grandpa is really sick, and I fear the end of his life is going to approach sooner rather than later. The poor man is in pain, and it probably won't get better. So it's not like I can ethically or humanely ask him to stick around forever. But dang it. I can't emotionally allow him to go. I can't emotionally accept that the inevitable is inevitable.
I've heard all of it: without pain we wouldn't know joy. Blah blah blah. That does not change the fact that pain and sorrow suck. Suckity suck suck suck. Suck.