One Hard Truth I Had to Learn in Quarantine
By: Ema Alvaran
Tags: Covid Diaries, Closure, Open Letter

Apparently, you don’t need goodbyes to move on.

“No closure is a closure in itself already.”

For the longest time, I never understood what people meant when they said this — when they settled for this.

I have become so accustomed with rules and policies, I’d like to believe I grew up an obedient daughter. I would and wouldn’t do something because my parents told me so. I think it’s safe to say that my life is grounded on rules.

Because rules keep things in order.

Because rules are there for our own good.

Because rules are implemented so we are kept safe.

I prefer squares and rectangles over circles and irregular shapes.

Squares and rectangles are straightforward — literally. I can see where it ends, and I can perfectly control the lines when I draw them. Circles, on the other hand, are not my favorite things to draw. Once you begin to draw the curve of a circle, you wouldn’t be able to pause to assess if it’s going to meet the other end perfectly. If you do, chances are, you wouldn’t have a perfect circle anymore. I don’t like drawing irregular shapes either because they are inconsistent, free-forming. You can do whatever you want with them. And while it might sound appealing to other people — being able to do what you want to do with something — that can easily frustrate me. And in case you haven’t caught it yet, it’s because I am used to following rules and doing things in a calculated and specific manner.

When something is about to end, there has to be some sort of a goodbye. You know a movie has ended when the credits start to roll. You know the rain has stopped when you see a rainbow painted on the sky. You know you’re finally getting out of high school when the principal hands you your diploma up on that stage. Most of the time, most of my life, there have always been signals that would let me know that something is ending — or has ended, as a matter of fact.

But not this time, because it’s different from anything I’ve ever known my entire life.

We didn’t even know that was the last — the last time I was going to see you when I still wanted you that way, the last time I was going to walk through the hallways of what has been my home for such a significant time in my life, the last time I was going to see you smile and hear your laugh, the last time I was going to look at you as if you were my whole world, and the many other last time’s I wasn’t aware of until it hit me that it was the last time for sure. Because after that day, life was never the same again.

It’s been over a year now, and I still think about you like there’s the slimmest chance things will go back to the way they used to. I had to hope. I had to have faith. It’s what kept me going all this time. Some days, I think I’ve moved on, but not quite yet. I am here, but I still tend to run back to you… because I didn’t get to say goodbye.

But maybe, this is closure in itself already.

Maybe it would’ve changed my mind had there been a “proper” closure. Maybe I wouldn’t have found a place closer to joy had we gone through the painstaking process of moving on. Maybe it would’ve been more difficult to leave you more than it already was had there been the goodbyes.

Maybe all this time, I’ve been telling God I need to see you one last time to completely let you go, but God has also been telling me, “Anak, I know this isn’t what you need.” Maybe some things are meant to finish all of a sudden. Something has to be done the quickest way possible so no further damage is made, and no one bleeds out.

Maybe — just maybe — this is already closure.

No one bleeds out. That does sound just about right. When I think about it, I haven’t really had the time to process all of it — the lack of goodbyes and abrupt transitions. But maybe I’m not meant to process them, and it’ll be okay, nonetheless. It has to be.

So at this point, there’s no way but forward. Closure’s been served, I guess.