Endings are tricky. When does something actually end? Is it when we stop showing up? When conversations fade? Or only when we realize—deep down—that it won’t begin again?
These are questions I’ve long sat with in therapy spaces. Lately, though, I’ve been sitting with them more personally.
In 2025, I received the news that my therapist had passed away.
Coping with the Loss of a Therapist
We had already ended our regular sessions last year when she fell ill and had to retire. There was no formal goodbye—just the hope that, when she recovered, we could have a proper closure session. I told myself I’d wait.
Life got full. I moved on. She would surface in my thoughts now and then—our work, her presence—but I never quite knew if I should reach out. Not until this March, when I returned from the States and felt called to initiate our therapy closure. I did not want to leave anything unresolved.
And so we met—for what became our final session together.
Experiencing the Last Therapy Session
I remember it vividly—not for the words we exchanged, but for the familiar presence that filled the room. I knew it would be the last time I saw her. I didn’t think it—I felt it. That awareness of time thickening, of endings becoming real. Death was no longer theoretical; it was in the space with us.
Our conversations about my family or recent life events didn’t matter. We were just two human beings, sitting with what we knew—that this was the end, or at least the end of something.
I teared up at different moments. Not because anything was wrong, but because something was profoundly real. Our work was being honored.
Holding Onto Threads After Loss
At the end of that session, I told her I was looking forward to her new book coming out. I joked—only half joking—that I wanted to send her a copy to sign and send back to me.
Perhaps it was my way of trying to keep something going.
To hold onto a thread.
To not let it all end.
But she passed on before her book was published.
I knew this might happen someday, yet the news still shook me. Maybe we’re never quite prepared, even when we think we are.
On Therapy Closure and Endings
I’ve been thinking a lot about endings in psychotherapy. About how we often say goodbye assuming we’ll see each other again. About how rarely we truly know when something is the last time.
In therapy, I often emphasize closure. We thrive on good endings. But life rarely follows that structure. Sometimes, we only realize it was goodbye in hindsight.
Still, my connection with her doesn’t feel entirely over. Her book was released last week, and I received my copy yesterday. Holding it, I imagine what she might have said, wishing it had her signature—a tangible connection I could keep.
Connection Beyond Physical Presence
Writing this piece feels like another way of staying connected with her. It makes me wonder:
Do some relationships keep living on, even after they’ve ended?
Where does someone go when they’re no longer here, but still very much with you?
I don’t have clear answers. But I wanted to share this—not as a tribute, and not as a lesson. Perhaps just as a little existential question we all will face:
What endings are still quietly unfolding in the background of your life?
About the Author
I am a BPS-accredited and SPS-accredited Counselling Psychologist with a Doctorate in Existential Psychology from the New School of Psychotherapy and Counselling in London, U.K. My care philosophy is not to diagnose, label, or categorise but rather to work with the individual in front of me in the here and now.
My clinical credentials certainly play a significant role in defining my professional identity. But to foster a deeper connection and authenticity, I invite you to discover my other “Selves”, the various facets of who I am.
