Is Closure an Illusion?

By Tanya Shah, BA (hons.) Geography, third year

Edited by Vasvi Singhal

Recently, my best friend called and asked me, “Isn’t closure supposed to be obvious when something is coming to an end?” I couldn’t answer. Not because I didn’t want to, but because how do you define something that feels so different for everyone?

When you Google the term, it defines closure as the permanent shutting down of something-like a business. And I’ve always wondered how this definition extends to relationships and friendships. The idea of one final conversation, one last exchange of unspoken words, one last touch before two people part ways forever. 

I’ve always believed denial is the first stage of grief. When something we cherish ends abruptly, we shut down rationality, forcing ourselves to believe it's just a phase. We trap ourselves in a ruthless cycle, convincing ourselves that all the love, time, and effort we invested must amount to something-a final conversation, a ritual that gives us the strength to move on and remember someone in a kinder light.

But place your hand on your heart and tell me-does it really work that way? Because for me, it never brought the peace I longed for. Every time a friendship I cherished ended, I sought closure. And yet, instead of healing, it only reopened wounds. It made me question every moment we shared, every promise we made. It forced me to wonder: Was any of it even real? Maybe I’ve been reading the wrong manual on how to get closure. 

And maybe you, the reader, don’t agree with me-perception varies, after all. I agree, for some it might bring a sense of completion. But if someone were to ask me, “Isn’t closure necessary?” I would say NO. For me it is more of a mental construct than an actual event. It’s the way you choose to make peace with an ending.  We chase closure like a final chapter in a book, but sometimes the story just ends mid-sentence, leaving us to fill in the blanks ourselves.

So instead of chasing a moment that might only bring more confusion, maybe all you really need is a day dedicated to wailing, comfort food, and deep sleep. Because in the end, closure isn’t about finding answers from someone else-it’s about deciding, on your own terms, to let go. It’s not a single fleeting moment but rather the quiet whisper in your own heart that reminds you: this too shall pass. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.