As a 15 year old, I had no idea about what closure was. When I heard it back then, it was an abstract term that was to bring real meaning in the years to come. Closure meant tying loose ends, or burning bridges?
My first experience of having or rather, getting closure was a few months after I turned 15. I had to make peace with certain facts, learn to forgive, learn to let go. I didn’t know what forgiveness was till then. All I thought of was hurt. All that consumed me was anger. I am eternally grateful to my two friends, who sat down with me and told me to let go. They didn’t chastise me for holding onto a grudge. They told me, like they would tell a child, that sometimes we must let go of certain things. They told me that otherwise it would append itself to the malaise present within ourselves, spread like a cancer and affect everything else.
And so, I learnt to let go. And I’m still learning.
Pursuant to that, I also learnt that closure is necessary. Closure must bring peace, truce.
I still stand by that rendition of closure. For me, it is to harbour no ill-will towards the other person. Closure is a form of assurance. The maintaining of status quo. Maybe the burning of bridges. There is no concrete, strait jacket formula for closure.
Once I stood beside a well of many words
My house was full of rings and charms and pretty birds
Please understand me, my walls came falling down
There’s nothing here that’s left for you but check with lost and found
– ‘Please Read The Letter’, Robert Plant, Jimmy Page
But then remains unfinished business. Its the tricky, awkward bit. Its something that survives closure and forgiveness. It could replace the previously existing relationship between you and a particular individual. It is complex-the intentions of parties are unknown and ambiguous. But then familiarity of the previous relationship lingers. Its a composite of what remains after everything has been said and done.
Closure doesn’t cure unfinished business.
I suppose, unfinished business is an elementary form of hope.