Endings are hard for everybody, I think. I remember attending a conference several years ago which turned out to be unusually boring and rather useless to my purposes. But I found a paperback lying on a bookshelf and got hooked on it to pass the time. It was an easy read, short, what you might call pulp fiction. I don't even remember the title or the author or the story now.
Life is full of dissatisfying, unfulfilling endings.
Endings are a fine art, and bad endings stay with us long into our new beginnings. Things just don't always work out, don't get resolved. Still, we long for it to be so. After this Job lived one hundred and forty years, and saw his children, and his children's children, four generations. This is written in prose, with a different style from the preceding forty chapters.