Sometimes you can’t make the plans, commit to bold goals, and charge ahead with a future focus. There are times when you must allow things to end, wait for the dust to settle, or grieve the passing of someone or something good and important. That’s where I’ve been for the past few months – confined to a continuous present of work change and family illness.
Tending to Endings is the work of Ally Kingston, Will Brown and Heather Knight. This gardening-based toolkit explores how we manage the losses involved in endings of work, seasons, or relationships. Their approach has given me language to describe my experience.
I’ve spent several months coppicing at work – cutting branches back to the ground and allowing new shoots to emerge. I’ve been grateful for what I’ve harvested and allowed myself some fallow time. I’ve also planted many seeds – in the shape of conversations, shared interests and commitments that may bear fruit later in 2026. I’m grateful to all the people who helped plant those seeds.
The most important ending has been spending time with my terminally ill mother before her death earlier this month. Making space in my world to be with her and care for her gave me time to harvest memories and gratitude to share with her. Her short-term memory might have been unreliable, but the long-term memory was unaffected, and we laughed about so many great and ridiculous times. I reminded her of pivotal moments where her kindness and support for me shaped my sense of belonging and value. Both of my parents in their dwindling, precious days, lit up with joy when reassured that they were good parents, and held in love and affection by all their children.
Tending to endings also involved gathering the family together. My mother’s journey of leaving this earth affected each of us differently and we managed to navigate it with gentleness and care. A lifelong priority for Mum was for her five children to be a loving, supportive, and united group. Coming together in our mother’s kitchen, around her bedside, and for her funeral, helped us see each other and restored connection.
This continuous present is not a place I would choose to be – but I needed to be here and deal with significant challenges that arose over this time – while my mother was dying my child was diagnosed with a serious but treatable illness [why do challenges come in clusters?]. The message was very clear – be present. When all of this is over, I want to have been truly present for my Mum and son and not to have hidden from this experience.
As I have tended to endings, so too have the endings also tended to me. They have made me realise the importance of stepping off the treadmill and giving my full attention to my family. Priorities have clarified. This time is one of appreciation, love and connection and I’m grateful to have been here for it.
I have work plans and ideas emerging for 2026. They are the result of patience and presence, and I am confident that in time, they will bloom.
Where in your life have you experienced the need to pause, to be present and to tend to an ending? And what insight did you gain through this?
A longer perspective – future generations thinking
A joyous interlude during this period was celebrating the Winter Solstice at Bru na Boinne (Newgrange) in Ireland, watching the rising sun light up this amazing megalithic structure.
With a small group I stood in the central chamber, singing and speaking in Irish as the winter sun streamed in – just as our ancestors have done for five thousand years. It gave me a deep sense of belonging and responsibility, to place and to the flow of time.
I imagined the people who built this structure and wondered if they imagined me standing here, grateful to them for what they left me. I wondered – what are we creating that will support the lives of our descendants in 5000 or even 500 years’ time?
We urgently need to adopt a longer perspective – making future generations thinking an integral part of our planning process. How can you introduce future generations thinking in the work you do?
