WHEN GRIEF IS COMPLICATED BY THE RELATIONSHIP

When somebody dies, but your feelings aren't as straightforward as you expected.

Section H — Relationships & Connection

When somebody dies, we're often presented with a fairly familiar picture of grief.

Sadness.

Tears.

Missing them.

Remembering the good times.

Wishing we could have just one more conversation.

And for many people, that's a recognisable part of their experience.

But what happens when the relationship wasn't particularly happy?

When you loved somebody, but didn't always like them?

When there was conflict, disappointment, resentment or distance?

When the person who has died was somebody you felt you should love, but your feelings were much more complicated?

Perhaps it was a parent who was difficult to please.

A partner with whom you'd had a troubled relationship.

A sibling you hadn't spoken to for years.

A friend who had hurt you.

Or somebody who played an important role in your life, but whose presence wasn't always a positive one.

And now they're gone.

You might feel sad.

Angry.

Relieved.

Guilty.

Confused.

Or all of those things, sometimes within the same afternoon.

You might even find yourself wondering:

“What sort of person feels relieved when somebody dies?”

Or:

“Why am I grieving somebody I didn't particularly get on with?”

Or perhaps:

“Why am I not more upset?”

Because grief isn't always about losing a wonderful relationship. Sometimes it's about losing a complicated one.

And that can be difficult to make sense of.

1. We don't only grieve people we had good relationships with

There's an assumption that grief reflects how much we loved somebody.

The closer the relationship, the greater the sadness.

The more difficult the relationship, the less grief we should feel.

But human relationships don't work quite so neatly.

You can have a difficult relationship with somebody and still feel devastated when they die.

You can love somebody and also feel angry with them.

You can miss aspects of a person while feeling grateful that other aspects of the relationship have ended.

You can grieve somebody you hadn't seen for years.

And you can feel surprisingly little sadness when somebody dies, even if they were an important part of your life.

None of these reactions automatically tells us how much we cared.

The quality of a relationship and the intensity of grief don't always fit into a simple equation.

2. The person you lost — and the relationship you wished you'd had

Sometimes we're not only grieving the person who died.

We're grieving the relationship we hoped might one day exist.

Perhaps you spent years wishing your parent would become more affectionate.

More interested.

More understanding.

More accepting.

Perhaps you hoped that one day you'd have a conversation where everything finally made sense.

They'd acknowledge something that hurt you.

You'd understand each other.

You'd find a way to become closer.

And then they die.

Suddenly, the possibility of that imagined future disappears.

There will be no more opportunities to ask certain questions.

No more chances to hear the apology you hoped for.

No possibility of the relationship changing in the way you wanted.

And perhaps that's part of what hurts.

Sometimes we grieve not only what we had, but what we never had — and now never will.

That can be a particularly difficult kind of loss to explain.

3. Can you love somebody and resent them?

Absolutely.

Relationships can contain contradictory feelings.

You might love a parent deeply while resenting the way they treated you.

You might care about a former partner while recognising that the relationship was unhappy.

You might feel protective towards a sibling who caused you considerable pain.

Or feel affection for somebody who was also controlling, critical or emotionally unavailable.

These feelings don't necessarily cancel one another out.

We sometimes think we have to choose.

Did I love them, or did I resent them?

Was the relationship good, or was it bad?

But perhaps the more accurate answer is:

It was complicated.

And perhaps both things can be true.

You can acknowledge the good in somebody without denying the hurt they caused.

Equally, you can acknowledge the hurt without pretending there was nothing good.

4. The uncomfortable feeling of relief

This is one of the emotions people may find particularly difficult to admit.

Relief.

Perhaps the person had been seriously ill for a long time.

Perhaps you were exhausted by caring responsibilities.

Perhaps the relationship had involved years of conflict, criticism or unpredictability.

Perhaps you no longer have to worry about the next argument.

The next difficult telephone call.

The next crisis.

Or the next occasion when you feel you've somehow disappointed them.

And perhaps, alongside your sadness, there's a sense of relief.

Then comes the guilt.

“I shouldn't feel relieved.”

“What does that say about me?”

But relief doesn't necessarily mean you wanted somebody to die.

Sometimes it means that something difficult, frightening or exhausting has ended.

You can feel relieved that a difficult situation is over and still grieve the person who was part of it.

Both feelings can exist together.

5. When guilt joins the conversation

Guilt can be a powerful part of complicated grief.

Perhaps you wish you'd visited more often.

Called more regularly.

Been more patient.

Said something differently.

Or tried harder to repair the relationship.

Perhaps your last conversation was an argument.

Or perhaps you deliberately kept your distance because the relationship was difficult.

And now you're questioning that decision.

“Should I have done more?”

It's worth remembering that decisions are made within the circumstances that exist at the time.

We don't have the benefit of hindsight while we're living through them.

And when somebody dies, we may begin judging ourselves according to what we now know.

That can be a rather unfair standard.

A useful question might be:

Am I judging my past decisions with information I didn't have when I made them?

Another might be:

Am I remembering why I made those decisions in the first place?

Sometimes we need to acknowledge genuine regrets.

But that doesn't mean every boundary, disagreement or difficult decision was wrong.

6. When the person who died had hurt you

Some relationships involve more than ordinary disagreements.

Perhaps there was persistent criticism.

Emotional neglect.

Manipulation.

Betrayal.

Abuse.

Or behaviour that had a lasting impact on your life.

When that person dies, you may experience a particularly confusing mixture of emotions.

Perhaps you feel sadness.

Perhaps anger.

Perhaps relief.

Perhaps nothing at all.

You may find yourself remembering painful experiences while other people are sharing affectionate stories.

And that can feel very isolating.

It's important to recognise that somebody's death doesn't erase the impact of their behaviour.

Death doesn't automatically turn a difficult person into a wonderful one.

You don't have to rewrite the relationship to make it more acceptable to other people.

And you don't have to forgive somebody simply because they've died.

Your experience of the relationship still matters.

7. When everybody else remembers a different person

Funerals and memorials can be particularly difficult when your relationship with the deceased was complicated.

People may talk about how wonderful they were.

How generous.

How loving.

How kind.

And perhaps you find yourself thinking:

“That's not the person I knew.”

Or perhaps they genuinely were all those things to other people.

Just not consistently to you.

Somebody can be a wonderful friend and a difficult parent.

A respected colleague and an unhappy partner.

Charming in public and critical at home.

Human beings have different relationships with different people.

And the experiences of others don't invalidate your own.

You don't have to challenge every affectionate memory.

But you also don't have to adopt somebody else's version of the relationship.

Other people's memories can be genuine without being the whole story.

8. What if you weren't speaking when they died?

Estrangement can make grief particularly complicated.

Perhaps you'd stopped speaking to a parent.

A sibling.

An adult child.

Or a former friend.

Maybe the distance had developed gradually.

Or followed a significant disagreement.

Perhaps you'd tried repeatedly to repair the relationship.

Or perhaps you had decided that distance was necessary for your wellbeing.

And then the person dies.

You may feel shocked by how strongly you react.

Or perhaps you feel very little.

You might wonder whether you should have reached out.

Whether things could have been different.

Whether you made the right decision.

But it's worth remembering that relationships rarely become estranged for no reason.

There may have been years of experiences, difficulties and attempts to make things work.

The fact that somebody has died doesn't automatically mean the reasons for the distance were invalid.

And grieving an estranged person doesn't necessarily mean you regret the estrangement.

You may simply be grieving the finality.

9. The loss of possibility

While somebody is alive, there may be a small part of us that believes things could change.

Even if we don't consciously expect it.

Perhaps one day they'll understand.

Perhaps one day they'll apologise.

Perhaps one day we'll reconnect.

Perhaps one day we'll be able to talk honestly.

Death brings a particular kind of finality.

And sometimes that finality is what we're grieving.

Not necessarily the relationship as it was.

But the possibility of what it might have become.

This can be especially difficult when there are unresolved questions.

Things you wanted to say.

Explanations you hoped to receive.

Or simply the wish that the relationship could have been easier.

Sometimes the hardest goodbye is to a future that never happened.

10. What if you're not particularly sad?

Here's another experience people may be reluctant to admit.

Somebody dies.

And you don't feel very much.

Perhaps you feel numb.

Detached.

Practical.

Or simply ready to get on with life.

You may attend the funeral, support other people and deal with arrangements.

But you don't experience the sadness you expected.

And perhaps you wonder whether something is wrong with you.

There isn't one correct emotional response to a death.

Some people experience strong feelings immediately.

Others experience them much later.

Some have already spent years emotionally distancing themselves from a difficult relationship.

Others may never experience the kind of grief they assumed they should.

Not feeling the grief you expected doesn't mean you're grieving incorrectly.

And you don't need to manufacture emotions to prove that the relationship mattered.

11. The pressure to say nice things

There's a familiar social convention around death.

We speak kindly about the person who has died.

Focus on their good qualities.

Remember happy occasions.

And avoid mentioning the more difficult parts.

Often, that's understandable.

Funerals aren't necessarily the time to catalogue somebody's shortcomings.

But what happens when the public story bears little resemblance to your private experience?

Perhaps you feel pressure to describe somebody as loving when the relationship rarely felt loving.

Or to express gratitude for a childhood that was actually quite difficult.

You may worry that being honest would seem disrespectful.

But there's a difference between being deliberately hurtful and acknowledging the truth of your own experience.

You can choose what to share publicly.

You can respect other people's grief.

And still remain honest with yourself.

You don't have to pretend a relationship was better than it was simply because the person has died.

12. The complicated grief of losing a parent

The death of a parent can be especially significant, even when the relationship wasn't close.

Parents often play a central role in our early understanding of ourselves.

Our sense of belonging.

Our identity.

Our expectations of love.

And our ideas about family.

Perhaps you spent years trying to earn a parent's approval.

Perhaps you felt responsible for their happiness.

Perhaps you were constantly compared with a sibling.

Or perhaps you simply never felt particularly understood.

When that parent dies, you may find yourself revisiting old experiences.

Not because you want to dwell on the past.

But because their death brings the relationship into sharper focus.

You may also notice that you are grieving different things at different times.

The person.

The childhood you had.

The childhood you wished you'd had.

And the possibility of things ever being different.

These are distinct losses, even when they're connected.

13. When caring for somebody has been difficult

Long periods of illness and caring can create complicated emotions.

Perhaps you've spent months or years supporting somebody.

Organising appointments.

Managing medication.

Making decisions.

Responding to emergencies.

Or watching their health deteriorate.

You may have felt love and compassion.

But also frustration.

Exhaustion.

Resentment.

And perhaps a longing for your own life to become less restricted.

When the person dies, you may experience sadness alongside relief that the caring responsibilities have ended.

Then perhaps guilt about feeling relieved.

You may also struggle with the sudden absence of a role that occupied so much of your time.

“Who am I now that I'm no longer caring for them?”

Sometimes grief involves losing the person, the responsibility and a familiar part of your identity — all at once.

And adjusting to that can take time.

14. Anger doesn't always disappear when somebody dies

Perhaps you were angry with the person before they died.

And perhaps you're still angry.

About the way they treated you.

The things they said.

The things they didn't say.

The opportunities they missed.

Or the impact their behaviour had on other people.

You may feel that anger is inappropriate now.

That you should let it go.

That you should focus on the good.

But emotions don't automatically change because circumstances have changed.

You may need time to understand what the anger represents.

Sometimes it's about hurt.

Sometimes disappointment.

Sometimes a sense of injustice.

And sometimes it's connected to things that can no longer be resolved directly with the person.

You don't have to stop feeling angry in order to acknowledge that somebody has died.

What matters is finding ways to live with those feelings that don't cause further harm to yourself or others.

15. Do we have to forgive somebody after they die?

There's sometimes an expectation that death should bring forgiveness.

That we should let go of resentment.

Make peace with the past.

And remember the person fondly.

For some people, forgiveness may become part of their experience.

For others, it may not.

And that's okay.

Forgiveness is a personal process, not a compulsory stage of grief.

You can move forward without deciding that somebody's behaviour was acceptable.

You can acknowledge that a relationship was damaging without spending the rest of your life defined by it.

And you can find a degree of peace without arriving at a neat conclusion.

Making peace with your own life doesn't necessarily require making excuses for somebody else's behaviour.

16. What about the people who are grieving differently?

A death affects more than one person.

And everybody may have had a different relationship with the deceased.

Perhaps your sibling remembers a loving parent.

You remember somebody who was distant or critical.

Perhaps your partner is devastated by the loss of a family member.

You feel relieved that a difficult family dynamic has ended.

Neither person may fully understand the other's reaction.

And this can create tension.

One person may feel that the other isn't grieving enough.

Another may feel pressured to express emotions they don't genuinely have.

It can help to recognise that people are grieving different relationships, even though the person who died is the same.

We can respect somebody else's grief without pretending our own experience was identical.

Sometimes that means allowing people to remember the person differently.

Without trying to convince them that our version is the only correct one.

17. When grief brings up questions about your own life

A difficult death can sometimes prompt wider reflection.

About family.

Relationships.

Boundaries.

Regret.

Time.

And the way we want to live.

Perhaps you begin thinking:

“I don't want to spend years in relationships that make me unhappy.”

“I wish we'd talked more honestly.”

“I don't want to leave important things unsaid.”

“I want to make different choices in my own life.”

These reflections can be meaningful.

But there's no need to rush into major decisions while emotions are unsettled.

Sometimes the most useful thing is simply to notice the questions that have arisen.

And give yourself time to explore them.

18. You don't have to find a neat ending

We often like stories to have a conclusion.

A reconciliation.

An apology.

An understanding.

A sense of closure.

But some relationships end without any of those things.

The person dies.

Questions remain unanswered.

Feelings remain mixed.

And there may never be a moment when everything suddenly makes sense.

Perhaps we need to be careful about expecting grief to deliver a perfectly satisfying ending to a complicated relationship.

Sometimes we can understand parts of the past without understanding everything.

Sometimes we can accept that something happened without approving of it.

And sometimes we can move forward while still carrying unanswered questions.

Not every relationship has a neat ending. And not every loss needs one.

19. What might help?

There isn't a single correct way to respond to complicated grief.

But a few approaches may be useful.

Allow more than one feeling.

You don't have to choose between sadness, anger, relief, affection or disappointment.

Try not to judge your reaction.

There is no requirement to feel a particular emotion simply because of your relationship to the person.

Remember the whole relationship.

You can acknowledge good memories and difficult experiences without pretending one cancels out the other.

Be selective about whom you talk to.

Not everybody will understand complicated family or relationship dynamics. You may prefer to speak with somebody who can listen without judging.

Recognise the difference between regret and responsibility.

Wishing something had been different doesn't automatically mean you could have made it different.

Give yourself time.

Your feelings may change, remain mixed or become clearer gradually. There's no deadline.

And if the loss is bringing up significant distress, traumatic memories or difficulties with everyday life, bereavement counselling or psychological support may be helpful.

Seeking support isn't a failure to cope.

20. A little experiment: what am I actually grieving?

If it feels appropriate, consider completing these sentences privately.

The relationship we had was…

What I valued about this person was…

What I found difficult was…

What I wish had been different was…

What I never got to say was…

What I may never get an answer to is…

What I feel relieved about is…

What I feel guilty about is…

What I would like to stop blaming myself for is…

What I want to carry forward into my own life is…

You don't have to answer every question.

And you don't have to arrive at a conclusion.

Sometimes simply recognising the different parts of the relationship can help us understand why our feelings are so mixed.

21. The FUSION Framework

F — Foundations: Where am I now?

What emotions am I experiencing following this loss? What feels particularly difficult or unresolved?

U — Understanding Yourself: What makes me tick?

How has this relationship shaped my beliefs, expectations and feelings about myself and others?

S — Strengths & Struggles: What's helping me, and what's holding me back?

What sources of support do I have? Am I placing expectations on myself about how I should grieve?

I — Intentions: What do I really want, and why?

What would it mean to move forward in a way that feels honest, compassionate and consistent with my values?

O — Options & Opportunities: What could I do differently?

Could I talk to somebody I trust, write down my thoughts, establish boundaries around difficult family conversations or seek specialist bereavement support?

N — New Habits: How can I make the changes stick?

How can I make space for my feelings while gradually reconnecting with the routines, relationships and activities that support my wellbeing?

The FUSION Framework isn't a process for fixing grief or making it disappear.

It's simply a way of reflecting on what you need as you navigate life following a loss.

22. The Fusion Wellness Wheel connection

Physical Health: Am I noticing changes in my energy, appetite or general wellbeing?

Movement & Strength: Could gentle movement help me maintain a sense of routine and connection with my body?

Nutrition: Am I managing to eat regularly and look after my basic needs?

Sleep & Recovery: Is grief affecting my sleep, rest or ability to switch off?

Emotional Wellbeing: Am I allowing myself to experience mixed feelings without judging them?

Relationships & Connection: Do I have people who can listen without telling me how I should feel?

Work, Career & Purpose: Has the loss affected my responsibilities, motivation or sense of identity?

Money & Security: Are there practical or financial consequences of the death that I need support with?

Personal Growth & Fulfilment: Has this experience prompted questions about the relationships and life I want for myself?

Lifestyle & Environment: Have my routines, home life or caring responsibilities changed?

Never just one thing. Everything is connected.

A few questions worth asking yourself

1. How would I honestly describe my relationship with the person who died?

2. What were the positive aspects of the relationship?

3. What were the difficult aspects?

4. Am I grieving the person, the relationship or the relationship I wished we'd had?

5. Are there things I hoped might change one day?

6. What does it feel like knowing those possibilities have ended?

7. Am I experiencing emotions that surprise me?

8. Do I feel guilty about any of those emotions?

9. Am I expecting myself to grieve in a particular way?

10. Have other people's expectations made this loss more difficult?

11. Do I feel pressure to remember the person more positively than I genuinely do?

12. Are there things I regret saying or doing?

13. Am I judging past decisions without remembering the circumstances?

14. Were there boundaries or choices I made for good reasons?

15. Is there anger or disappointment that I haven't acknowledged?

16. Do I feel any relief — and can I allow that feeling without judging myself?

17. Am I comparing my grief with somebody else's?

18. What support would be useful to me now?

19. What have I learned about the relationships I want in my own life?

20. Can I allow this relationship — and my feelings about it — to have been complicated?

Something to take away

When somebody dies, we often feel there's a particular way we're supposed to grieve.

We're supposed to feel sad.

Remember the good times.

Speak fondly about the person.

And perhaps eventually find some sense of peace.

But what if the relationship wasn't straightforward?

What if there was love and resentment?

Affection and disappointment?

Sadness and relief?

What if you miss somebody you didn't particularly enjoy being around?

Or feel surprisingly little sadness about somebody who played a significant role in your life?

Perhaps the answer isn't to force our feelings into a more socially acceptable shape.

Perhaps it's to recognise that human relationships are complicated.

And when those relationships end through death, the feelings they leave behind may be complicated too.

You don't have to pretend somebody was perfect.

You don't have to deny the good.

You don't have to forgive.

You don't have to feel sad every day.

And you don't have to explain your grief to everybody else.

You can acknowledge the relationship as it really was, rather than as you think it should have been.

Perhaps that's one way of beginning to make room for your own experience.

Not by rewriting the past.

Not by forcing a neat ending.

But by allowing the truth to be a little more complicated.

Something to think about, don't you think? And perhaps something to be gentle with yourself about, too.

FUSION FIT UK
MOVE WELL • EAT WELL • LIVE WELL

For client use only. This handout is intended for general wellbeing education and coaching reflection. It is not a substitute for bereavement counselling, psychotherapy, trauma treatment or other specialist mental health support. If a bereavement is causing persistent, overwhelming distress or significantly affecting everyday functioning, professional support may be appropriate. Reflective exercises are optional and should not be pursued if they feel overwhelming.

Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

Useful research and further reading

• Stroebe, M. & Schut, H. (1999). The Dual Process Model of Coping with Bereavement: Rationale and Description. Death Studies. Explores how people move between confronting a loss and adapting to changes in everyday life.

• Doka, K. J. (1989). Disenfranchised Grief: Recognizing Hidden Sorrow. Lexington Books. Examines grief that may not be recognised or validated by others.

• Boss, P. (1999). Ambiguous Loss: Learning to Live with Unresolved Grief. Harvard University Press. Offers useful perspectives on unresolved relationships and losses without clear emotional closure.

• Neimeyer, R. A. (2001). Meaning Reconstruction & the Experience of Loss. American Psychological Association. Explores how people make sense of loss and its relationship to identity and meaning.

• Cruse Bereavement Support. UK charity offering bereavement information and support. www.cruse.org.uk

• NHS. Grief after bereavement or loss. General guidance on grief, emotional responses and when to seek additional support. NHS bereavement guidance

The phrase “complicated relationship” in this handout describes a relationship involving mixed or unresolved feelings. It should not be confused with prolonged grief disorder, which is a separate clinical concept.