Grief is deeply personal and rarely follows a predictable path. For many, losing a parent is a life-altering experience filled with sorrow and reflection. But what happens when that loss is tangled with years of estrangement, unresolved emotions, and bittersweet memories? For me, losing my mother only two short months after losing my father (and after years of minimal contact) brought a grief that felt confusing and heavy. I’m still learning how to navigate it.
The Reality of Estrangement
Growing up, my relationship with my mom was anything but simple. Addiction cast a shadow over our family, creating a childhood filled with instability and uncertainty.
There was a time when I would have considered my mother my best friend. The kind of older friend who buys you cigarettes and beer before dropping you at a high school party. She shared stories about her messy, detailed life experiences, hoping for validation and that I might learn from her mistakes. But as I grew older, the emotional and physical distance between us widened. She transitioned in and out of sobriety, breaking and rebuilding my trust over and over again.
Estrangement wasn’t a decision I came to easily. It was a matter of survival - a way to protect my mental health from years of pain and unmet expectations.
When she passed unexpectedly and so soon after my father, I was overwhelmed by emotions that I wasn’t ready for. I had braced myself for the possibility of losing them young. But nothing prepared me for the finality, or the complexity, of it when it actually happened.
Mourning What She Couldn’t Be
Traditional grief often centers on mourning the loss of someone who played a significant role in your life. For me, grief wasn’t about losing who my parents were; it was about losing who I wished they could have been.
I didn’t just grieve their absence… I grieved the guidance I never received, the unconditional love I longed for, and the support I desperately needed but never had. This was especially painful because my father and I were finally building a relationship. His final months were the most time we had spent together in years.
I spoke to my mom one last time after my father died. I locked myself in his basement, mustering all the courage I could to make the call. She was barely lucid. The woman who had once been so intelligent, who owned her own business, and had an answer for any question, was reduced to a shell of herself. But she expressed gratitude for the call.
When I learned of her passing shortly afterward, I was shocked by the depth of my emotions. I was heartbroken that she had been alone, indignant about the way she was treated in the hospital, and wracked with guilt for not being a better daughter. My heart ached for the milestones she had missed, the advice she couldn’t give, and the safety she was never able to provide.
I grieved the mother I had created in my mind; the one who might have been present, caring, and supportive if life had been different.
Finding Comfort in Their Peace
As the grief settled, I found solace in imagining that my parents were no longer burdened by their demons. Addiction and unresolved pain had consumed so much of who my mother was, leaving little room for the love and connection I craved.
While I mourn the relationship we never had, I find comfort in believing that, in death, my parents may have found the peace that eluded them in life. It’s not a resolution, but it’s a thought that brings a measure of calm to my heart.
The Confusion of Complicated Emotions
One of the hardest parts of this kind of grief is making room for all the conflicting emotions. Alongside sadness, I felt anger at what I missed out on, guilt for not doing more to reconnect, and relief that I no longer carried the weight of our fractured relationship.
There were moments of indifference too, and I hated myself for them. I asked questions that had no easy answers:
Was it wrong to mourn people who couldn’t be what I needed?
Could I have done more to fix things?
Was I justified in feeling relief now that the hope for something different was gone?
Was I setting a poor example for my younger siblings?
These emotions didn’t fit into neat boxes. Over time, I’ve come to accept that grief is rarely tidy. It’s messy, contradictory, and deeply personal.
Finding My Way Through
After my parents’ deaths, I leaned heavily on therapy, mindfulness, and movement to process what I was feeling. Yoga became a space where I could sit with my emotions without explaining or questioning them. Journaling helped me untangle the chaos in my mind, piece by piece. And my therapist guided me through the tough moments when life felt overwhelming.
Connecting with others who understood this unique grief brought comfort. Sharing my story and listening to theirs made me feel seen and validated. It reminded me that grief (even the most complicated kind) is a shared human experience.
What I’ve Learned
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that healing doesn’t follow a straight line. Some days, I feel at peace with the past; other days, the weight of what could have been feels overwhelming. And that’s okay. Grief isn’t about “getting over” something, it’s about learning to live with it.
I’ve also learned to extend grace to myself; for the anger, sadness, and even moments of indifference. I’m beginning to extend that grace to my parents, too, recognizing how their own pain and limitations shaped them. They couldn’t be the parents I needed, and while that truth is painful, it’s one I’m learning to accept.
Moving Forward
Losing my parents without the closure of a strong relationship has been one of the hardest experiences of my life. But it has also been an opportunity for growth and reflection. I’m learning to honor my emotions, forgive the past, and find meaning in the loss, even when it feels incomprehensible.
If you’re navigating a similar grief, know that it’s okay to mourn what wasn’t… The milestones missed, the love you wished for, the support you needed. Your grief is valid, and your journey through it is uniquely yours.
One step at a time, you can find a way to carry it, and perhaps even find moments of peace along the way.
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