“I just wanted to see you clearly.”
That’s all most of us want, isn’t it? To be seen clearly. To have someone turn a light on when we want to hide our pain in the dark and make us feel like it’s okay for us to exist in that moment exactly as we are.
To have someone see us—really see us—and choose to keep looking until death do us part.
That’s what Vision gives Wanda at the end of “The Series Finale” of WandaVision. And that’s what Vision always gave her—someone who saw her for exactly who she was. Not a hero, not a villain.
And that was enough.
Losing that—the one person who accepted her for everything she was—turned Wanda into the worst version of herself. In her inability to sit with her grief and make peace with it, she lashed out and let her emotions control her. She hurt people—without meaning to initially, but that doesn’t make the pain she caused any less damaging. And in “The Series Finale,” Wanda had to face that truth and choose what to do with it.
In the end, she chooses acceptance.
WandaVision is a journey through the stages of grief, so it makes sense that it ends with acceptance—of Vision’s death, of what he’d meant to Wanda, and of what losing him had done to her. But the end of this part of Wanda’s journey wasn’t just about accepting that the Vision she’d loved was never coming back.
It was also about accepting that part of herself was never coming back either.
Westview represents the life Wanda had always wanted to live and the version of herself she’d always wanted to be. In this world, she’s a wife, a mother, a friend, and a woman who’s happy without reservation and unbothered by any shenanigans that can’t be solved in a half-hour.
That’s a lot to say goodbye to.
It’s what makes Wanda’s goodbye to Billy and Tommy so devastating. She’s saying goodbye to the dream of starting a family with Vision, and because it felt so real for her, it became real for us watching too. We grew attached to those kids because Wanda was so attached to the hope of this life. Letting go of that—saying goodbye to those little boys knowing that in a few moments it would be like they never existed—was as hard for us as it was for Wanda because that’s what good storytelling does. It makes us empathize. It makes us feel a character’s pain as if it was our own.
But ultimately, Wanda doesn’t say goodbye; she says thank you. It might not have been real outside of the Hex, but this time as a mother was real to Wanda. And instead of grieving it, she feels gratitude for it. Because she now knows what it’s like to feel that kind of love, and to know it can exist once means that maybe—someday—it can exist again.
That sense of gratitude and hope permeates her final moments with Vision as well. When Vision asks her who he is, Wanda explains that he’s so much more than just a piece of the Mind Stone:
“You are my sadness and my hope. But mostly you’re my love.”
Vision is the physical embodiment of Wanda’s grief. He’s made of sadness, but as he once reminded her when he was alive, it’s not all bad. He’s her hope that there’s some part of her that can still feel what he made her feel. But mostly, he’s the love in her that keeps persevering—the stubborn, brave, beautiful love that allows us to keep a small part of people alive in our hearts and in our memories after they leave us.
Vision is a memory made real, but that means that even when the reality fades—when his body disintegrates and Wanda is left with empty hands in the empty lot that could have become their world had life been less cruel—the memory remains. And in the end, Wanda is ready to accept that it’s enough. That, to paraphrase Ms. Taylor Swift, the hope of it all is enough.
The hope that this isn’t the end of the story. The hope that there might be another hello after this goodbye. The hope that their love will keep persevering.
And for now, that’s enough.
It has to be enough.
Because Wanda has seen the damage caused by her inability to stand in her truth—by her need to escape and put her pain outside of herself instead of sitting with it and accepting that it’s a part of her. And she won’t punish other people for her pain anymore.
Instead, she accepts it. She accepts her pain for what it is, her life for what it is, and herself for who she is.
It’s messy and imperfect and uncomfortable. It’s hard. But it’s also brave.
Acceptance is brave.
Wanda’s journey to acceptance is about so much more than just accepting Vision’s death. It’s about accepting her own pain. Accepting her own power. Accepting herself for all the love her heart can hold and all the hurt she can cause.
Her boys helped her do that. Vision helped her do that. Monica helped her do that. Even Agatha helped her do that.
But in the end, she had to do the hard work herself.
She had to choose to turn the light on—to stand in the truth. And her truth is that she’s not okay. Her truth is that she’s broken but maybe not beyond repair. Her truth is that she’s struggling to understand who she is and her place in this world of heroes and villains and powers and pain she never asked for.
It’s a complex collection of truths. But aren’t we all complex collections of truths?
That’s what makes us human—not heroes, not villains.
And that’s the Wanda that Vision sees in the end. It’s the Wanda that we see in the end. But most importantly, it’s the Wanda that Wanda sees in the end.
We all want someone to see us clearly. But in the end, that’s our job. We need to see ourselves clearly. That’s what self-acceptance is.
That’s the journey Wanda Maximoff is on. And that’s a journey worth watching.
What was the best thing you saw on TV this week?