Rethinking Closure: Making Peace with the Unknown
Not long ago, someone asked me what I meant when I said closure. It’s a question that’s lingered with me, because the truth is closure rarely looks the way we imagine it should.
When a relationship ends, even something as significant as a marriage, we often picture closure as getting all our questions answered, having our perspective validated, or finally reaching a sense of fairness. As humans, we’re wired to defend our point of view, to seek resolution, and to want meaning. But when a relationship breaks down, that kind of closure almost never happens.
Instead, one or both people are often left with lingering questions, unresolved thoughts, or unspoken feelings. In many ways, it mirrors grief, the death of something that once was. Whether the ending came suddenly or slowly, there’s often shock, loss, and a long process to move through.
And here’s the hard truth: we can’t force someone to give us the closure we think we need. If communication, trust, or emotional connection were already broken in the relationship, chances are slim that meaningful closure will suddenly appear. People avoid it for all kinds of reasons: self-protection, guilt, fear, or simply because it’s too painful to engage. That avoidance can leave the other person holding unanswered questions, navigating their own process of acceptance.
So maybe closure isn’t really about tying up every loose end. Maybe it’s about making peace with the unknown. And that is hard work. It requires us to shift from control to alignment, from trying to make someone else give us clarity, to choosing to live in step with our own core values. It means resisting the urge to manipulate, force, or emotionally dump in search of temporary relief. Instead, it’s about trusting that time will reveal the story, because it usually does.
On the days when the longing for closure feels especially heavy, here are a few gentle ways to steady yourself:
Call a good friend and ask them to simply listen. Sometimes being heard, without needing answers, is enough.
Return to yourself through small, grounding activities: go for a walk, exercise, read a book, journal, play a game, eat at your favorite restaurant, or even take a nap.
Give yourself space to dream again. Loss always carries an ache, but it also cracks open the possibility for something new. When you have the energy, begin to imagine what this absence might make room for in your life.
Closure, in the truest sense, may not come from the other person. It often comes from within us, when we stop waiting for someone else to finish the story and begin writing the next chapter ourselves.
If you’re navigating the ache of closure or the complexities of a relationship ending, you don’t have to figure it out alone, Halos Counseling is here to walk with you when you're ready to move toward healing and clarity.
About the Author
Sarah Currie, Ph.D., LCMHC is a licensed clinical mental health therapist and founder of Halos Counseling. She is passionate about helping individuals and couples find clarity, build resilience, and live in alignment with their values. Through a strengths-based and person-centered approach, Sarah creates a supportive space for growth, healing, and lasting change.