You never think when something begins — a moment, a marriage, a life — that it will end. Not really. Why would you?
Beginnings are beautiful, hopeful, exciting. They’re about what we don’t know, not about the one thing we do: that it will, someday, somehow, end. Perhaps by choice, maybe by chance, most likely by the slow fade that faces us all.
Which is the hardest? I don’t know. I know, very well, that the endings we choose surely cut as deeply as the ones we don’t.
But what I also know? Despite how intense the pain of an ending might be, it’s never enough to not make the choice to start with.
There is, after all, value in every moment, a possibility of glory in every choice. That, to me, is always worth it.
But sometimes it’s just really damn hard. And that’s the only answer there is.