Tales Of A Broken Home

I'm so afraid of endings.
Before he died, my father used to say that life is a long hallway and people come and go as they pass by our doors. Some stay for a while, some just peek in, and some never enter at all. But they all leave their mark on us, and we on them. And when our own door finally opens, we'll look back and see a trail of people we've loved and lost along the way.
I used to think that was just his way of coping with his own mortality, but now I understand.
Every time someone leaves my life, I feel like I'm losing a part of myself. I've always had a hard time saying goodbye, holding onto moments and memories like they're fragile pieces of glass. But no matter how tightly I hold on, eventually they slip from my grasp and shatter into a million pieces.
Maybe it's because of how I was born, in the midst of a storm that tore my family apart. Maybe it's because my father left too soon, and I'm scared that everyone else will too. All I know is that I'm so afraid of endings that I cling to beginnings like they're my lifeline, hoping that they'll stretch out forever.
But they never do.
And every time I'm faced with another goodbye, I feel like I'm losing a little piece of myself. I try to hold onto the memories, the feelings, the moments I never want to forget. But they always fade, leaving me with a bittersweet ache in my chest.
I know that life is a constant cycle of beginnings and endings. And every ending is just a new beginning waiting to happen. But it doesn't make it any easier to let go, to say goodbye, to watch someone I love walk away from my life.
So I'll hold onto the beginnings for as long as I can. I'll savor every moment, every feeling, every memory. And when the time comes to say goodbye, I'll hold on a little tighter, and I'll try to remember that endings are just a part of the journey.