Last Words
Wine Down Wednesday Issue 50
Hey Love,
Can I tell you something I’ve been wrestling with lately?
I think we’ve made closure far more romantic than it actually is. Let’s get into it…. Somewhere along the way, we started believing it comes wrapped inside one final conversation. We imagine the apology we’ve been waiting for, the explanation that suddenly makes everything make sense, or the honest exchange that allows everyone to walk away feeling lighter than they arrived. It’s a comforting idea because it gives us somewhere to wait. It tells us that eventually the person who hurt us will finally say the thing that makes the pain easier to carry. The problem is, life doesn’t always hand us endings that are that neat.
I’ve caught myself believing that if I could just understand why someone did what they did, I’d finally be able to move on. Why they changed. Why they left. Why they stopped showing up. Why they handled things the way they did. It feels so reasonable when you’re in it. You convince yourself the missing piece isn’t healing, it’s information. Then I had to ask myself something that completely changed the way I looked at it. If they called tomorrow and answered every question I’d ever wanted to ask, would it actually change what happened? Would it give me those years back? Would it erase the disappointment? Would it restore the trust that had already been broken? If I’m being honest, I don’t think it would. I’d still have to wake up the next morning and decide what kind of life I wanted to build after the conversation ended.
I think that’s when I realized I wasn’t really waiting for closure. I was waiting for the pain to make sense, and those aren’t always the same thing. We spend so much time believing peace is hiding inside someone else’s words that we forget how much power we’ve quietly handed over. Of course accountability matters. Honest conversations matter. Apologies matter. When they’re genuine, they can be incredibly healing. But not everyone is willing to have those conversations, and not everyone is capable of them. Sometimes people don’t have the emotional maturity to offer the explanation you’re hoping for. Sometimes they genuinely believe they did nothing wrong. And sometimes, if we’re being honest, the conversation we’ve been waiting for was never going to change the outcome anyway.
That’s when it hit me.
I’ve spent far too much time sitting in emotional waiting rooms.
Waiting for someone to call my name. Waiting for the explanation. Waiting for the apology. Waiting for the version of the story that would finally make everything make sense. The thing about waiting rooms is that they’re never meant to become home. They’re places you pass through, not places you build your life around. Yet so many of us end up furnishing them with our peace, our time, and our emotional energy, convincing ourselves we’ll leave as soon as someone else gives us permission.
The older I get, the more I think closure is much quieter than we expect it to be. Sometimes it looks like realizing you haven’t replayed that conversation in weeks. Sometimes it’s hearing their name and noticing your heart doesn’t race anymore. Sometimes it’s looking around at the life you’ve built and realizing you’re finally more interested in what’s ahead of you than what happened behind you. Maybe closure was never the conversation after all. Maybe it was simply the moment you decided to walk out of the waiting room and stop expecting someone else to meet you there.
And before anyone assumes this is only about romantic relationships, it isn’t. I’m talking about the friendships that ended without explanation, the family relationships that changed, the people you once considered home but somehow became strangers, and yes, the relationships we thought would last forever. If you ask me, friendship breakups can be even more painful than romantic ones. They don’t get nearly enough attention, and somehow we’re expected to move through them as though they don’t leave the same kind of ache. That’s just my opinion, but something tells me that’s a conversation we’ll have over a glass of wine another Wednesday.
THE DECANT
Perhaps closure was never about getting the conversation you deserved. Perhaps it was always about reaching a place where your peace no longer depended on it. There is a quiet freedom in realizing that healing doesn’t always arrive with answers. Sometimes it arrives the moment you stop waiting for them.
The Intent: Peace
The Atmosphere: Reflective & Liberating
SECOND GLASS
By the second glass, I can’t help but wonder how many things we’ve mistaken for unfinished business that were actually finished a long time ago. Sometimes it’s not the relationship that’s keeping us attached. It’s the version of ourselves we left behind in it. The woman who wanted to be chosen. The friend who wanted to be understood. The daughter who wanted things to be different. Maybe that’s why letting go feels so complicated. We aren’t always grieving the person. Sometimes we’re grieving who we were when we loved them.
VIBE NOTE
Take a Bow by Rihanna
Some songs hit differently when you’ve lived a little. Years ago, I heard Take a Bow as a breakup song. These days, I hear something else. I hear acceptance. I hear the quiet moment when you stop waiting for someone to become who you needed them to be. There’s no shouting, no chasing, and no desperate attempt to rewrite the ending. Just the understanding that some conversations are already over long before the words are spoken. This week, let Rihanna remind you that peace doesn’t always arrive with an explanation. Sometimes it arrives the moment you decide you’ve heard enough.
SCENT NOTE
Ernesto Incense by Trudon
Some fragrances don’t soften the room, they steady it. Ernesto Incense by Trudon fills the air with warm notes of leather, tobacco, amber, and smoky woods, creating a space that feels grounded, reflective, and quietly confident. It’s the kind of scent that reminds you not every question needs an answer and not every ending needs another conversation. Sometimes the greatest luxury is finally allowing yourself to sit in peace with what is, instead of chasing what could have been.
SIP NOTES
THE BOTTLE: Charisma Sweet Red Blend
Why This Bottle
Some bottles are made for celebrations. Others are made for reflection. This week, I’m pouring Charisma because not every meaningful evening needs a grand occasion. Sometimes the best bottle is the one that meets you exactly where you are—after the tears have dried, the questions have quieted, and you’re finally ready to choose peace over another explanation.
What’s in the Glass
Ripe blackberry, dark cherry, and juicy plum come together in a smooth, velvety blend with just the right touch of sweetness. It’s rich without feeling heavy and approachable without sacrificing character, making every sip feel comforting, familiar, and effortlessly enjoyable.
What Lingers
Long after the last sip, you’re left with more than a pleasant finish. You’re reminded that not every story gets the ending you hoped for, but every ending offers you the chance to begin again. Sometimes closure isn’t found in the conversation you never had. Sometimes it’s found in the quiet decision to stop waiting for it.
NEWSLETTER LINKS
Vibe Note
Scent Note