A Week Of Lasts


Making room for what's next.


Yesterday I had my last ever class as an undergraduate. 

It’s been a week of lasts: last Gazelle production, last REACH meeting, last active listening session, last night in the Nook. Last times are always hard and I don’t think I’ve ever had so many poignant ones squeezed into such a short space of time.

That’s the thing about leaving, though. There are so many last little moments that need to be savoured, but those moments are bittersweet. I’ve loved my classes and projects over the last four years, and saying goodbye to them is almost as hard as saying goodbye to the people I've got to know here. It hurts to leave.

But a friend helped me begin to see it in a new light.

Last times, he told me, make way for the new. You have to have them, in order to move forward into the next stage of your life. 

I don’t know what that stage looks like right now. A job offer is sort of dangling in my face but no one is quite sure whether it will work out and the days I have left to find out are ticking by. Not knowing makes it even more painful, in a way it hasn’t been since I left school without a university offer. It was a choice I made, as is not knowing this time, but it makes all those last times so much tougher when the next big thing is nowhere to be seen.

We have to keep moving forward. I can't slow down time – even though I would bloody love to – and instead I am throwing myself into each last. I have to accept that this is happening, and be grateful that I'm sad. I'm sad because it's been so good, but I could never have imagined before how good it would get. Who knows, the next steps may be even better. 

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