Grieving Someone You Had a Difficult Relationship With

Grief can be especially confusing when the person who died was someone you had a difficult or painful relationship with.

A brooding sky casts dramatic shadows over the vast ocean as storm clouds gather on the horizon.

We tend to think grief should look a certain way. Someone dies, we are sad, we miss them, and we mourn their absence. But what happens when the person who died frightened you, hurt you, neglected you, or made your life more difficult?

My father and I never got along. When he went on his alcoholic binges, he was abusive and

frightening. When he was sober, he seemed mostly disinterested in his family—especially his

children. He was demanding and often treated us more like servants than little kids who needed his love and attention.

I remember once when I was about eight or nine years old. I was down the block playing with a friend when my father had my brother call me from the front porch and tell me to come home. I hurried home, wondering what he wanted.

He wanted me to change the channel on the television.

This was before remote controls, but still—I was dumbfounded. He was sitting right there. And so was the brother he had sent outside to call me home.

Another time, almost the same scenario. I was called home from playing with my friend, only

this time he wanted me to make him a cup of Sanka. Instant coffee. Add hot water and stir.

Apparently, no one else in the house—including my father—was capable of boiling a cup of

water.

These may sound like minor examples, but they illustrate the atmosphere in our home.

Things became much worse as I grew into a "lippy" teenager and began standing up for myself. Eventually, our confrontations escalated to physical violence.

So, when my father grew older and his health began to fail, I entered a very strange emotional territory. I thought I should feel something. Sadness. Regret. Fear of losing him. Maybe even some last-minute desire to repair our relationship.

But I didn't.

As the end drew closer, I felt almost nothing. That bothered me enough that I went to see a

psychologist because I wondered if there was something terribly wrong with me.

There wasn't.

After my father died, we had a celebration following his funeral for our mother's sake. As I sat in the chapel, I felt hollow. Then a few of my cousins stood up and talked about what a wonderful uncle he had been. That stirred something in me. Anger.

I listened as they remembered the gifts, treats, attention, and kindness he had given them. I

couldn't help thinking about the enormous difference between the uncle they knew and the father I had known. He could be generous and kind to them while his own children often felt like servants, burdens—or punching bags.

It was difficult to reconcile those two versions of the same man. My therapist gave me something very important during that time: permission to acknowledge whatever I felt, whether those feelings were positive, negative, complicated, or nonexistent.

I want to pass that permission along to you.

You are not required to grieve someone simply because they died.

If someone mistreated you, neglected you, frightened you, or failed to give you the love and care you needed, their death does not magically erase that history.

You may grieve deeply. You may feel angry. You may feel relieved. You may grieve the

relationship you wish you had had rather than the person who actually died. You may mourn the fact that reconciliation is no longer possible.

Or you may feel very little at all. Sometimes the death of a difficult person brings sadness not for what was lost, but for what never existed. That is a loss, too.

Don't allow other people's memories of the deceased to dictate your own. Someone who was wonderful to them may have been very different with you. Both experiences can exist at the same time. Their good memories do not invalidate your painful ones.

Good, bad, angry, sad, relieved, or indifferent—the feelings are yours.

Feel what you feel, not what you think you are supposed to feel.

Let go of other people's expectations about how grief should look. Take care of yourself and honor the truth of your own experience. And if your feelings become overwhelming or leave you struggling with unresolved anger, guilt, or conflict, consider talking with a qualified mental health professional who can help you sort through them.

There is no requirement that death suddenly turn a painful relationship into a beautiful one.

Sometimes healing begins simply by allowing yourself to tell the truth about what it was.

Be well,

Shirley