Everything Ends

Recall an earlier post I made about then (and now still) favourite TV series "Six Feet Under" and how I nearly wanted to bite the head off one of my friends who dissed the show? Fast forward to now: I still feel the warm glow of the story as it ended barely days ago.

What can I say?

Nothing except the usual tears in my eyes even as I revisited the closing scenes right up to the end credits. What could I be crying about? Sadness that the show had to come to an end or maybe over my own memories that run far deeper than what the show offered? Someone nearly accused me of masochistically re-living memories of the pain of losing my best friend suddenly. He could be right you know. Let me be honest, it was all of the above and more; at the end of the show I just felt that I wanted to see my folks again. I wanted reassurance that it's all going to be fine whent I'll be home again soon. I wanted to offer reassurance too. I wanted to visit an aunt who is, as I write this, fading very quickly from cancer and to put to rest her asking me when I was coming back to visit. It's an aching question, heavy and so uncomfortable because it begs an answer you cannot find words for, quite like the one that Melissa, my mentally-challenged cousin asks every time she sends me an email. "WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO VISIT?" No she wasn't shouting, she just writes this way. I cry perhaps because I am missing home for the first time in such a long time, and this time home just took a deeper meaning, thanks to Alan Ball.

But all good things do come to an end. They also have a way of starting again: for new characters, new stories, newfound lives that have yet to know what we know and more. I wonder about my boss and his newborn son. Real life characters in my real life story. I am sure that for him and for many of us, the world can lose all sense and meaning for all we care; we've got our families and each other and THAT is what really counts... in the end.