At a funeral, I read Tennyson’s poem, “Crossing the Bar,” written when he was 80. He requested this poem be printed at the end of future publications of his work. He was closing his life’s work knowing he soon would be “crossing the bar.”
Later, I watched the documentary, “in restless dreams” , about Paul Simon, 84. He dreamed of Seven Psalms and wrote to bring them to life. When he got to the seventh, he found he had no more lyrics! He explained this problem to a friend playing as much as he had completed. His friend said “…when I hear this, I really don’t want to die!”
These words inspired Simon’s lyrics for his last song: “Wait”.
“… Wait, I am not ready, I’m packing my gear. Wait, My hand is steady, My mind is clear… ” He was closing his life’s work realizing he soon would be “going home.”
These stories made me think about how we, psychotherapists and psychoanalysts, close our life’s work. We may not be facing the end of our lives but sometimes we must close our practices.
So, how do we close? Our audiences are so small…Our work so ephemeral…Transitional ferrying from moment to moment…Joining together…Nudging apart.
When we reach our career’s end, we are more like Simon than Tennyson: Wait! I can’t leave these therapies dangling… I am still skilled, still interested…Wait, I just need more time…
Neither man talks of pain in reaching the end. Tennyson asks for “no sadness of farewell’. After asking for more, Simon accepts “it’s time to come home.”
But closing a practice is painful for us and for our patients.
We must face each one stating that we will not be going forward with them. Briefly, we grieve together. Then our clients move on, and we, we remain.
