What to Do When You Don’t Get Closure

(air whooshing) (gentle music) Headspace Studios. (wind rustling) Hi there, it's Dora, and you're listening to "Radio Headspace." So some endings arrive with clarity, a conversation, a decision, a defined moment of closure. And then there's other endings, the ones that just drift, no final talk, no "thank you for everything," no explanation, just a growing silence, a slow fade, an unanswered message, a relationship, a friendship, a job over without ever being declared as such, and you're left holding the weight of something that no one else is naming. I've had a few friendships like this. One day we're trading daily check-ins and laughing at an inside joke, and then suddenly the texts become fewer, the calls stop, and the friendship just ends without anyone ever saying it out loud. (wind rustling) Now, not every goodbye is clean or mutual, and when closure doesn't come from the outside, we often feel stuck in the middle between what was and what will never be. Mindfulness doesn't erase the pain of that ambiguity, but it does give us tools to meet it with compassion, to make space for all that we're carrying, the grief, the confusion, even the gratitude, without needing it to be wrapped up neatly, because sometimes the most honest goodbyes aren't spoken, they're felt. (wind rustling) (gentle music) I once had a friendship that meant a lot to me. We were close, talked all the time, shared meals, encouraged each other through tough seasons, and then slowly, it changed. Tech stopped coming. Plans were vague. The energy felt distant, even when we were together. There wasn't a fight or a falling out, just a slow drift into silence. And for a while, I kept waiting, waiting for a message, a check-in, some final conversation that would give me context or closure, but it never came. Eventually I realized the goodbye had already happened. It wasn't just verbal. It wasn't official. It was lived out through absence. So one day I sat down with myself and wrote a letter I'd never send. I said everything I needed to say, the thank yous, the grief, the questions, the love. And when I was done, I took a deep breath and exhaled some of the weight I had been holding. The letter, of course, didn't fix the loss, but it did honor it. It marked it. It allowed me to say goodbye, even if the other person never did. (wind rustling) (gentle music) So, if you're sitting with an ending that never got its closure, here's a few ways to care for yourself through it. Number one is to ritualize your own goodbye. You don't need someone else's permission to mark the end. Write a letter. Light a candle. Go on a walk with intention. Let you name the ending, even if no one else does. Number two is to acknowledge what you feel without judgment. Whether it's sadness, confusion, anger, or relief, it all belongs. Let it move through you without needing to...