I waited one more minute after knocking on her door before walking away.

My patience was rewarded; she opened the door. But I could see immediately that something was wrong. Her eyes were red. She had been crying.

We talked about it.

She had recently passed the 1-year anniversary of her dad’s sudden death. Then Father’s Day hit. Next would be his birthday in July. One wave of grief after another.

And yes, she’s an adult. She had her father for many years. She has kids and grandkids now of her own.

But the ache remains. She still misses her dad.

The Myth of Closure

We often assume that when life follows its expected course—children burying parents and not the other way around—that there will be a natural sense of closure. A neatly-tied ribbon around our grief.

But if you’ve experienced a significant loss, you probably already know; even when things go as “planned,” you still may not have closure.

I’ve experienced enough losses of my own to know that some wounds never close.

And maybe they shouldn’t?

Introducing Openture

I’ve recently learned a new word (even though it’s been around for 20 years). It’s helping me make peace with a lack of closure in my own situations.

It’s openture.

Coined by psychologist Paul Pearsall, openture is the opposite of closure. It’s defined as “refraining from seeking a resolution or ending for an emotionally difficult experience.”

I read more about it in Oliver Burkeman’s wonderful book The Antidote:

“We spend too much of our lives seeking ‘closure.’ . . . What we need more of, instead, is ‘openture’ . . . embracing imperfection and easing up on the search for neat solutions.”

Openture asks us to stay present with what’s unresolved. To hold the tension. To stop racing toward a finish line that can’t be reached.

Letting the Ripples Continue

As I wrestle this year with my One Word Ripple, I’m learning that keeping the door open also keeps the ripples moving.

But if I force closure, I might also force a premature ending to something that needs to flow a bit farther.

As I walked away from the conversation with my friend, I knew I hadn’t said anything profound or insightful. I had mainly listened. To her sadness and to her love.

But by her leaving the door open for grief to pass back and forth, she was also keeping her heart open to treasured memories with her dad.

Paula Boss writes in The Myth of Closure (I’ve read half of the book so far and it’s good!):

“You’ll never be completely over the loss of someone you have loved. There is no closure, nor is there a need for it.

Instead, we remember them and learn to live with the ambiguity of absence and presence. You know they’re gone, but you keep them present in your heart and mind—even as you move forward with your life.”

Maybe that’s where we find the truest healing: not in closing things up, but having courage to keep them open.

You’ve heard of closure, but “openture”? When have you stopped seeking closure and just let things ripple on? Share in the comments.

“A seed refuses to die when you bury it, that is why it becomes a tree. A seed neither fears light nor darkness, but uses both to grow.”
—Matshona Dhliwayo

Morning Light and Digital Windows

It’s a sunny morning as I sit here in my favorite recliner with my laptop balanced on my knees. I open a browser tab to view my Instagram profile.

I look at the last 30 squares from April, a whole month worth’s of photos (unusual for me!).

As I scroll through my pictures, I see:

• People I loved
• Foods I enjoyed
• Books I read
• Places I grew

Is it enough?

A Sacred Tension

A month ago I joined the #TheAprilJoyProject: one photo a day of something joyful. It seemed simple, even fun.

But I’m gonna be honest. Having lived with a terrible loss the past three and a half years, I still have days when it’s hard to let joy rise to the surface, even though I know I have a million reasons to be joyful (and I wouldn’t have made it then or now without those!).

Yet the sadness still sits alongside it all.

So I continue to work to accept both the dark and the light. To encourage myself in the discipline of finding joy amidst the struggles. Not to deny sorrow, but in companionship with it.

To answer my own question of “Is this enough?” I say yes, it is enough.

We all have experienced and will continue to live with both:

• hard things and easy things
• pains and pleasures
• losses and gains

These don’t cancel each other out. They won’t balance evenly on a scale, in either direction. But they can coexist in a sacred tension that keeps us grounded in our humanity.

A Life That Holds Both

So today may we—once again . . .

• Be with people we love, even as we cry for those who are absent
• Eat foods we enjoy, alongside some healthier ones we might enjoy less
• Read books that entertain us, and some that stretch us
• Grow in places we walk, even if we cringe at our inadequacies there

Beginnings and endings and beginnings and endings will keep on rolling through. We’ll mourn some. Laugh with others. We might even post some on Instagram.

But let’s also center ourselves in this exact experience we are having in this very present moment, whatever it holds.

Together we can acknowledge that alongside our hardships, joy is here, too. Together they make a whole life.

And a whole person.

~ * ~ * ~

Full Circle: Day 30

Below is my Day 30 Instagram post that wrapped up the series. It feels appropriate to share in this space, too. I hope it will encourage you to keep showing up, too.

I woke up on the wrong side of hope today. I opened my email to find more reminders that our country is moving away from love and liberty and toward negativity and narcissism.

But I got up anyway. I still put on my shoes. I still took my walk. I still ate a healthy breakfast (well, if you don’t count the bacon). For today, these small things are my quiet acts of resistance.

– The trees were still standing tall.
– The birds still serenaded the neighborhood.
– The geese were still squawking in my backyard over who gets the girl.

So today I have to make the intentional decision—again—to choose hope.
– Not the hope that believes things will turn out my way in the end.
– Not the hope that denies the pain that already exists.
– Not even the hope that someone or something else will swoop in and save the day if it finally gets bad enough.

❤️ Instead, I’m choosing hope that walks anyway, breathes anyway, loves anyway. The hope that I’ll have the resources I need when I need them. The hope that decides I can still show up in this imperfect body in this imperfect world and connect with other imperfect people.

That’s the real work. And real joy. That’s what matters the most.

So this photo of my workout clothes is my reminder that just as life goes on, I can keep going on, too. It’s another day that—once again—hope beats despair.

Day 30 – You, at the end

#TheAprilJoyProject #AprilPhotoaday #ChooseHope #EverydayResistance

Do you also feel the mix of sadness and joy in your life? Share in the comments.