“It Ends With Us”: Black Sands’ Finale Is a Poignant Examination of Motherhood, Sisterhood & Unconditional Love

Black Sands has been a devastatingly raw yet poignant experience.

And the season, or rather series, finale emphasizes that with a conclusion that is painful but well-earned.

“It ends with us” are the last words Aníta speaks to Davíð. They feel all-encompassing with Aníta, hopefully following through on that by putting an end to the type of generational trauma that feels almost too heavy to watch as it is to bear.

After the illuminating events of the previous hour that took us through what happened in the past with Davíð, we had a follow-up, which saw the Gullsander survivors having to face the music after the police pieced together that they may be responsible for Davíð’s death.

It seemed pretty straightforward since we had previously seen what happened to Davíð, how he got violent, Hildur responded, and suddenly she and Ragnheiður were facing down a body and wondering what to do next.

But I forgot that Black Sands loves a good twist. And this was quite a major one that completely pulled the rug from beneath my feet and left me reeling a bit.

It seemed a full-on certainty that these women would somehow go down for Davíð’s murder, and it would be a travesty after everything they had endured at the hands of this terrible man.

Listening to them walk through their respective stories was tense because, naturally, the stories weren’t aligning. The cops had their own approaches to each woman when trying to get information from them.

And then we finally go to the fact that they used a wrench to beat Davíð. We had Ragnheiður admitting that she was the one to finish the job by beating him up further and killing him, and it was all because she wanted to protect Hildur.

It made some sense for Ragnheiður, since she still harbored guilt over what she hadn’t done all those years ago to protect Helena when she needed it most.

Everything seemed to be as transparent as you could imagine until the letter came into play. And that’s when Black Sands kicks into overdrive, and the pieces start to click together in a genuinely surprising way, only because, in hindsight, it shouldn’t be.

Aníta was the one to bring up the suicide letter, but it was something she knew about, and the other cops didn’t. And then we saw what really happened with Davíð. She was the one who found him after the Gullsander Survivors left.

And the moment she saw him bleeding and read that letter, she acted. She suffocated him, and that was what killed him, not the woman hitting him over the head with the wrench.

It was intense, but it was her uttering the words “It ends with us” that made the scene dark but also enlightening.

Aníta knows that there’s just been an endless stream of violence, trauma, and abuse that has been passed down and spread around like a disease. She’s suffered as a result of it as a child, and she’s been struggling because of it as a mother.

The last thing she wanted was to pass that down to Erla or to pass it around. Putting Davíð down like a dog in Aníta’s mind was a service, the same way killing Salómon was.

In many ways, she saw it as a mercy killing, too. And it was striking how Salómon has still haunted her, but as the man she still deeply loved, the only person she ever felt understood her, even in those dark moments when no one else could break through.

He’s this extension of her, good and bad, and Aníta gets the complexities of how he’s been a victim of the same cycle as her.

It made sense that, like with him, she felt maybe death was how she could put an end to it. And that maybe she’d find some peace with him — the kind of peace neither of them had while living.

It’s so twisted but so damn compelling, too.

It certainly puts into perspective how far she’s descended since Davíð’s death. It seemed like the last thing that pushed her over the edge, and that was largely because she was responsible for it.

We’ve seen this version of Aníta that has been completely disconnected and disengaged from everyone around her ever since.

But it was only a matter of time before Aníta was completely gone, and her taking Erla without telling poor Jonna about it, and heading out to The Sands to attempt suicide was Aníta at her most broken.

We’ve watched her slipping away this entire time.

It’s difficult because she’s been in so much pain and deep in the throes of depression, but, while well-intended, there’s been this level of aloofness to how bad things were for her.

At one point, she literally tells Gústi she needs help; it’s a blatant cry for it, and he just. can’t. HEAR. her.

It was such a painfully realistic depiction of what many people who suffer from post-partum depression like that endure.

There was so much urging to “snap out of it” and “get help,” but everyone else’s life was still going on, and people were still leaving her with Erla and just… hoping for the best.

Aníta has been in pain for so long, and she’s slipped through the cracks.

I just cannot even imagine what it’s been like for her in this constant state of grief from losing all of her family, not to mention carrying the weight of killing two people she cared about.

It’s like it didn’t click into place just how bad things were for Aníta until she and Erla went missing.

No one wants to believe things are ever that bad, despite all the signs leading up to it, and then that moment happens, and it’s a brutal, terrifying reality check.

But my goodness, Black Sands is a prime example of why I love stories that center women and their dynamics.

Every single one of them showcased in the finale was just so powerful that it stirred something up inside of me.

Aníta is going through so much of this to protect the Gullsander Survivors and write a decades-old wrong, taking the wrench with her. The letter was evidence that that was true sisterhood — solidarity.

The same sisterhood and solidarity they exhibited when trying to protect each other.

And my heart soared a bit when it was Heiða who located Aníta.

She had a few scary moments when I worried that she’d lose her baby in the process, but knowing that she and Aníta had that conversation about motherhood, and Heiða wasn’t sure if it was something she wanted, made her being the one to find Aníta and Erla that much more poignant.

She understood Aníta. And she was gentle, non-judgmental, and handled the situation with ease and care, which worked because she was close enough to get things done, but not so close that emotions would outweigh the situation.

Of course, Fríða always has my heart. And she broke it when she was worried sick about Aníta and unsure of what she’d find.

What’s been great about Fríða is that, in typical fashion, while everyone has been consumed with Erla, Fríða has always prioritized Aníta.

Even seeing the full breadth of that scene, the carbon monoxide setup, all of it, she was just so relieved that Aníta was okay. And she handled Gústi well, too.

It’s not lost on me that he was the one to approach the situation with rage and anger. He led with that rather than sympathy, concern, and compassion, because he doesn’t get it. But the women did.

Gústi and Fríða’s dynamic has been a highlight of the season, and the culmination of that being her really talking him from the edge at the scene and commanding that moment with grace was fantastic.

He respects her, and she has more than earned his recommendation about the promotion.

Fríða’s unconditional love for Aníta is just awe-inspiring.

It was hard not to get emotional over her at her bedside, telling her how she had to go away for some help, and letting her know that she will be right there fo hr when she gets back.

And Fríða more than earned the final scene of getting rid of the evidence, burying the last visages of such darkness.

But my favorite dynamic of them yet was the scene between Aníta and Steffí.

The grace that woman exuded by treating Aníta with such tenderness and compassion, speaking positive words of affirmation and breathing life into her, allowing Aníta to collapse into her, and not giving her an ounce of judgment, was all so damn powerful.

Steffí pledging to take care of Erla until Aníta can, and telling Aníta that she is a good mother and that none of this was her fault, left me misty-eyed.

That’s unconditional love. Sisterhood. Two mothers bonding in ways you can’t put into words.

In that moment, Steffí was the mother Aníta never had and needed. A sister and friend. Hell, a lifeline.

Steffí previously telling Aníta that she didn’t hate her was already a weight off Aníta. But letting someone as lonely as Aníta feel less alone, like she isn’t a monster or a problem, that she is good, and seeing and acknowledging that?

She saved her. Validated her. She gave her permission to be human.

Anna Gunndís Guðmundsdóttir and Aldís Amah Hamilton were fantastic in the scene. Hamilton has been incredible throughout and a true force of nature in this gorgeous series.

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