Grieving Complicated Relationships

There is a kind of grief we don’t talk about very often.

It’s the grief that arrives tangled up with relief.
The grief that coexists with calm.
The grief that surprises you because you are not undone in the way others expect you to be.

As a death doula, I sometimes sit with people after someone has died and what they feel first is not devastation, it’s quiet. Or spaciousness. Or even a sense of safety returning to their body.

And then, almost immediately, comes guilt.

Because the person who died was complicated.
Because the relationship was strained.
Because there may have been years of tension, toxicity, emotional harm, or even abuse.
Because maybe you never felt fully safe in that person’s presence.
Because loving them was hard.

Relief in these moments does not mean you are cold.
It does not mean you are cruel.
It does not mean the death “doesn’t matter.”

It simply means the relationship was complicated.

When someone has been a source of unpredictability, criticism, volatility, manipulation, or pain, their death can bring a very real nervous system shift. The body may exhale in ways it never could before. That exhale is not a moral failure it is a human response.

And still grief can be there too.

You might grieve:

• The parent you never had.

• The apology that never came.

• The safety you longed for.

• The version of the relationship that never materialized.

• The possibility of repair.

Sometimes what we grieve most is the hope.

Complicated grief often gets dismissed by others. Well-meaning friends might say:
“But you didn’t even like them.”
“At least you don’t have to deal with that anymore.”
“Honestly, this might be for the best.”

Even when those statements contain some truth, they can land like erasure. Because grief is not a loyalty test. It does not require admiration. It does not require closeness. It does not require fond memories.

You are allowed to feel relief and sorrow.
You are allowed to feel anger and tenderness.
You are allowed to feel nothing at all.

There is no “correct” emotional performance for a complicated loss.

In my work, I often remind people: death does not magically resolve a relationship. It simply ends the possibility of future interaction. The history remains. The imprint remains. The unanswered questions remain. Sometimes that is what aches the most.

If you are grieving someone with whom you had a strained or painful relationship, I want you to know:

Your experience makes sense.
Your body’s response makes sense.
Your mixed emotions make sense.

You do not owe anyone a tidy narrative.

Grief is rarely clean. It is layered, contradictory, and deeply personal. And complicated love, or complicated absence of love, still leaves a mark.

If this is the kind of loss you are carrying, you are not alone. There is space for your relief. There is space for your sorrow. There is space for both to exist at the same time.

And neither cancels the other.