Most people think closure is a conversation. An apology. A final goodbye. But sometimes closure is not given. Sometimes it is taken. And when that happens, the story doesn’t end, it freezes, unfinished.
We’re told that time heals everything. That if someone still hurts after years, they must be holding on. But what if the pain isn’t about wanting them back?
What if it’s about never being allowed to finish the story?
The Love That Never Got an Ending
There are people who leave and take more than their presence. They take the ending you needed. No last conversation. No chance to choose. No space to understand.
Just absence.
And your heart is left holding a story that stopped mid-sentence. So the door stays cracked open, not because you’re waiting… but because something inside you is still trying to make sense of an interrupted truth.
Why Time Alone Doesn’t Close the Door
Time dulls memories. It does not resolve unfinished meaning. That’s why you can still feel someone from decades ago. Not because you want them back… but because the ending was stolen from you.
You never said what you needed to say. You never chose to walk away. You never felt the story complete. So your heart keeps the file open.
Not out of weakness, but out of unfinished business.
Closure Was Never a Conversation
We tell ourselves closure is something someone else gives us. But most people never get that moment. No explanation. No accountability. No clean goodbye.
And yet… life still moves forward.
Which means closure was never really theirs to grant. It’s not found in a final text.
Or a last meeting. Or the right words.
It’s found in what happens after the loss.
The Cost of Stolen Endings
Unfinished love does not just linger. It quietly shapes who we become. It influences who we choose.
What we tolerate. How deeply we trust.
Not because we are broken… but because part of us is still waiting to finish something that never got to end.
That waiting shows up as hesitation. As comparison. As a door that never fully closes.
The Truth About Real Closure
Here is the part people rarely admit: The heart doesn’t close doors with words.
It closes them when something else begins to live in the space that was left behind.
Not as a replacement, but as a new attachment. That is what finally quiets the old echo.
You cannot will yourself to stop caring. You can only care about something else.
For most of us, closure is not a moment. It is a slow redirection.
A new connection. A new purpose. A new reason to look forward instead of back.
A More Honest Ending
Maybe closure isn’t “this is over.”
Maybe it’s: “I no longer need this to define me.”
And one day, without realizing it, you will notice you haven’t checked that door in a long time.
Not because you forced it closed…but because your life finally gave you somewhere else to stand.
Troy P Zehnder 