‘I knew life was about to change permanently’

We rarely realise when something is happening for the last time. Conversations feel normal, and days blend together. There is usually no clear sign that a chapter is quietly coming to an end.

We only notice change later, when something familiar is gone, a routine fades away, or a memory starts to feel different. Throughout life, people often find that the most important moments are not those they recognise at the time but those they only come to understand afterward.

For Angela Ioannou, this was something she would only fully understand years later, when she looked back on the summer of 1979, when she and her husband made the decision to leave Ireland and start a new life in Cyprus.

“I remember very well that summer of ’79 when my husband and I made the decision to live in Cyprus,” she says. “Leaving Ireland was poignant, saying goodbye to my parents was especially emotional as we didn’t know when we would see each other again”.

The night before they left, there were friends and family at her parents’ house, a send-off that at the time felt more like a celebration than an ending. “It was a night of Irish music, stories and lots of memories shared,” Angela says. “One song in particular that stays in my mind of that night was the Fields of Athenry – I still have it on a tape that one of my friends had made for me to remember that night.”

Deep down, she says, she knew that her life was about to change, but not fully what this meant yet. “I knew life was about to change permanently, but being young, beneath the feeling of nervousness was excitement too”.

For Christina Efthymiou, a teacher with experience in several countries, endings are something she knows well, though not always in the way you may think. “I have worked in several countries, and in some schools I have taught at, I would be there for a few years,” she says. “You become part of the community, the staff becomes a little family, and you can end up teaching siblings”.

Over time, those relationships are built not just through lessons but through everyday moments, small conversations, familiar routines and watching children grow in confidence. “Moving on is a natural part of life, but goodbyes are always tricky; you build a bond with your class”.

One experience in particular remained with her more than others, because it happened as a bit of a shock. “It was quite sudden, I had to leave due to differences with management. I wasn’t prepared for that goodbye. It felt like just a normal day which then turned very quickly”. The abruptness of the day left something unresolved not only for her but also for one of her students.

“A mother asked if we could meet for coffee just so her son could have a proper goodbye, as he had missed seeing me when I had moved from the school, and was crying at night. He just needed that extra little time together to be able to move on and accept the change.” It was a reminder, she says, that endings are not always fully comprehended in that moment, especially for children.

“In that moment I didn’t see it, but when I step back and recall it’s so clear that phases of life pass so quickly”.

For Georgina Dimas, a mother of two boys, endings don’t come from big decisions or dramatic changes. Instead, they show up in the small, almost unnoticed moments of everyday life. One of the moments that stayed with her was small, something that might have gone unnoticed if not for the sudden realisation it had already passed.

“One thing that really stayed with me was the way my boys used to say certain words when they were little. They had their own versions of words for things that didn’t really make sense to anyone else, but I always knew exactly what it meant.” 

There was no defining moment that marked this ending. “One day, I realised they had started saying words properly, and it suddenly hit me that I had heard their little versions for the last time without even realising it. It was such a small thing, but it marked the end of that stage of them being little.”

Now she says that this awareness has changed how she spends time with her children. With her second child, she notices details she once may have missed; small habits, little stages, and ordinary moments that later meant the most. Like many parents, she has come to realise that while some days feel long, the years go by fast.

Some endings unravel little by little, while others arrive without warning. I was working abroad when my father went into the hospital for what was meant to be a routine surgical procedure. It was described as having a high success rate, and there was little reason to expect anything would go wrong.

I remember speaking to him on the phone afterwards. He sounded calm, and everything seemed fine, the kind of ordinary conversation you don’t think twice about at the time.

Complications followed the procedure, and he never made it out of the hospital. It was only later that I understood that phone call had been the last time I would ever speak to him. Like so many endings, it had passed without either of us knowing.