Only the Ending counts

Grandmother listened to every narration with such self-control -

When the story began with beauties, laughter, riches, and blue skies,

We could sense the gaze of her scepticism;

She seemed unmoved by thrilling openings

But, from where she sat with grey hair  pending over her shoulders,

We could depict a smile in between her wrinkles, as soon as an introduction opened up a world of cries, pain and hardship

Every time we heard church bells ring
and saw a beautiful couple
holding hands,

When all joyful we ran to her, each relating stories of our recently found jobs, homes, relationships,

She whispered while looking unshaken: 'unless it lasts'

A conclusion was what determined her reactions;
Before every theory she maintained 'unless it lasts'

Her advice being 'only the ending counts',

She sometimes accepted that the end justifies the means;

Grandmother emphasised that 

A conclusion was key -

She taught us to never embrace happy starts
She taught us to labour and forge our ending.