February relationship series: all good things must come to an end

It’s time for my series to reach its conclusion. Valentine’s Day is over, and February is coming to a close. All good things must come to an end, so let’s talk about endings.

When we are deep in love, the last thing we think about is love fading. If we have a fight, friends are quick to tell us we will pull through. We have been taught that love is stronger than any obstacle, but sometimes it isn’t. What can we do when “happily ever after” doesn’t work out as advertised?

A friend once told me, “Something can still have value, even if it doesn’t last forever.” These words are difficult to hear from someone who just doesn’t feel the same way anymore, but they encompass one of the most important lessons you can ever take to heart.

Before MP3s, if you went to hear a symphony, it was likely the only time you would ever hear the “1812 Overture” or Beethoven’s ninth symphony. This did not devalue music in its time, if anything it led audiences to treasure their experience even more. No one has ever cast aside Broadway tickets simply because of the fleeting nature of theater.

The value of the ephemeral is something we intuitively understand about art, but love we still describe in jewelry store slogan terms: “eternal,” “everlasting” and “timeless.”

Each of us changes immeasurably over the course of our lives. Philosophers like Derek Parfit contend that, given enough time, we cease to even be the same person. We understand that our tastes change. So does the way we love and the things and people we feel love for. It should be no surprise that some of us will grow out of some relationships just as we grow into others.

The strongest relationships are not those in which we cling to things we once knew, but those where we are willing to grow and change for as long as we are together. We cannot always know how life will change us, but we appreciate the moments for what they add to our lives.

Part of a healthy relationship is knowing when the love songs are wrong. Lines like “I would die for you” play to ideals of all-consuming passionate love, but they are not guides to healthy romance. When people are bound together by need, that is called dependence. It is captivity, and to think of your relationship that way is to ignore the circumstances of your own life. You survived before you met your beloved, and you have likely lived through a handful of breakups. You have it in you to thrive on your own.

If you choose to stay, let it be because you are happier in the company of your companion. Movies play up the “you complete me” narrative, but we should strive to be complete on our own. There is no higher compliment than the company of someone who stays alone by choice. If your life is no longer more fulfilling for the presence of a lover, what good do you do to either party by staying together?

Unfortunately, we tend to be uncomfortable with uncertainty. We give promise rings and marriage contracts in pursuit of a guarantee, in hopes of preserving something as fleeting as human emotion. We hold our partners back from growing or changing, we try to hold onto the things we fell in love with.

Love depends on trust. We must trust that our partners want to be with us. We must trust ourselves to recognize when what we feel is real. We must trust we can know when we are no longer better together than we were apart. We must trust ourselves to move on, to find love again, and to cherish a memory even when we no longer have the original, to understand that it was beautiful nonetheless.

This column is the last in a series of four.

David Billig is a UF linguistics masters student. His column appears on Wednesdays.