Learning to Love Endings
“A man is like a novel: until the very last page you don't know how it will end. Otherwise it wouldn't even be worth reading.”
– Yevgeny Zamyatin
What does it feel like to stand at the end of a life chapter?
Morning light spills over the horizon; a fawn snuggles with her mother; laughter so deep your stomach aches.
As my daughter crosses the stage with the Class of 2024, I find myself reflecting on 18 years of parenting. I remember the early days: conjuring visions of a midwife in a dew-spotted meadow, I tried to make homemade barley baby formula from a recipe passed down by my landlord’s ancestors—but it turned out as clumpy water.
Then, as we moved forward, I enforced nightly reading sessions, only to discover she had memorized the books.
When her inattentive swimming teacher failed her, I requested a retest. She jumped back in the water and passed.
After her diagnosis, I sought the best schooling and tutoring I could afford, defying the public school’s advice and going into debt, trusting God would provide. And He did.
Math tutoring wasn’t productive; she had the tutors in stitches, leaving her barely able to get any work done. Then there was the battle of before-dinner flash cards – my husband quit after the second night.
Between those challenges and the triumphs, there were also awards, baking hazards, bad teachers, angel teachers who retired too soon, weekday camping trips, deep friendships, disappointments, and managing screen time before YouTube took over kids’ lives.
Through all these years, I’ve been there for every moment, cheering her on and appreciating the ups and downs along the way.
She has become a compassionate, caring, and very witty young woman.
As I turn the tables, I ask myself, who have I become?
One tough lady—yet, like a Danish, still warm and soft where it matters most.
Now, I see I’m capable of greatness—
The kind born of fierce love and quiet resistance when I know what needs to be done.
I’ll carry this acquired wisdom into my art and see where it leads.
The next page is blank, but I’m celebrating a graduation of my own—one with both accomplishment and nostalgia.
A younger version of myself has been shed. Before she left, I thanked her for facing so many problems with such great faith and optimism.
“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”
― Frank Herbert
In appreciation for your being here,
Shana Lee