Ruminating

Of late, I have found myself contemplating more and more about what life is really about. A lot has seemed to come to an end recently, things that I had never imagined ending, that I thought would go on forever and this appears to have imbued in me a certain morbid fascination with the end of things and lives. What constitutes an end? Indeed, does anything ever really end? If the memory of something or someone lives on in no matter how small a size, is it finished? Is that the end?

Memories stay with your forever but they are annoyingly skillful and not being there when you wish to remember them. I sometimes wish I was in possession of the "Pensieve" from Harry Potter (apologies for the reference - yes I have read the 7th book, and I loved it. Another thing that has ended...) not only because I often find myself so full of memories but also because I wish to be able to conjure up memories at a whim. You see, to me the Pensieve is a way of not forgetting, a bit like a shopping list for your memory. With it, you know that barring some awful accident, your memories will always be there for you to access. But in truth they aren't. Not when you want them to be anyway. For example, I have just returned from holiday. On my flight back, I met 2 lovely people, a couple, but I cannot for the life of me remember the girl's name. The guy's I can do fine - it was Henry. 20 minutes after we had parted ways, I couldn't remember her name. My sister asked me and I couldn't for the life of me remember. Memories - troublesome buggers.

But back to ends. All those questions, all of this has been swimming through my head for a few months now. What constitutes a definite, final, no holds barred end? And the truth is, I don't know. I can't comprehend. The relationship I was in "ended" but it will always be there with me because i will remember it. But it has still ended. An interesting question. People's thoughts would be appreciated.