—Navigating Grief After Losing an Estranged Parent

If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance you’ve recently lost an estranged parent—or maybe it was going through another kind of loss, or making the choice to cut them out, that made you question how you’ll react when they eventually pass away.

Losing a parent you intentionally distanced yourself from is complicated. You’ll probably come across a lot of people who won’t really understand what you’re going through.
So I want to say this clearly: it’s normal to feel conflicted. And there isn’t one ‘right way’ you’re supposed to feel.

What This Might Bring Up For You...

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1) You might grieve the parent you wish they had been

The version of them who would’ve noticed the things you cared about. Asked real questions. Took an interest in your life without making it about them. Said “I’m proud of you” and actually meant it.

Sometimes it hits when you see another parent doing the bare minimum, and it still makes your heart ache. Or when you catch yourself parenting differently—showing up for your kids in the ways you never got—and wonder how things could’ve turned out if you’d had the same opportunity.

You picture the parent who listened and sat with you during hard moments, instead of trying to fix it. Someone who smiled with you in your joy. Who saw you in your struggles.

Who looked at you and said, “I get it,” or “I’m here.”

2) You might feel a sense of relief that they’re gone

And that doesn’t make you a bad person.

Maybe there’s a part of you that finally feels safe—like you don’t have to brace anymore. No more unexpected calls. No more messages through extended family. No more wondering if they’ll ever reach out, or if you’ll be pressured to let them back in.

It’s over now. That future isn’t waiting to ambush you anymore. And that can bring a kind of peace. Even if it also brings guilt.

3) You might miss the good parts

Not everything was awful. Or maybe it was, but there were still moments that mattered to you. A walk you took together. The smell of their coffee in the morning. A weird little quirk they had that still lives rent-free in your mind. The way they used to tuck you in at night, even if they didn’t say much.

It’s the little things that stuck—because they felt safe, or predictable, for whatever reason.

You’re allowed to miss those moments. The parts of them that helped shape you, or become the person you are now—whether it’s because of them, or in spite of them.

4) You might question whether you made the right choice

Even if you were sure. Even if it was decades ago.

Grief can stir up guilt. Should I have tried harder? Was I too harsh? What if they really did change?
But questioning the choice doesn’t mean it was the wrong one. It means the entire situation was painful. That you cared. And part of you still longed for a version of them who could treat you well.

You protected yourself. And that matters, even now.

5) You might feel sad about not getting closure

No apology. No conversation. No acknowledgment.

Even if you already accepted they couldn’t give you what you needed, death makes it final in a new way. It erases all the hypothetical endings—the one where they got sober, finally listened, or took accountability.

The emptiness that comes with this type of grief carries its own weight.

6) You might wish things had been different

You might wish someone could’ve been there for the big stuff.

The face you kept hoping to see in the crowd.

You picture what it might have been like for them to get to know your kids. The version of them who might’ve made you toast, or just sat beside you through tough moments, and good times, without turning it into something else.

Even if you didn’t want them there, maybe part of you still wishes someone had shown up for you like that.

7) You might feel something else entirely

Angry. Numb. Detached. Or fine until one random Tuesday when you fall apart in the car in the middle of the grocery store parking lot.

Grief doesn’t follow a linear path. It’s messy and jumbled. It’s normal to shift from one ‘phase’ to another. Whatever is showing up for you is real, and it deserves space.

8) You might feel nothing at all

No sadness. No guilt. Just... nothing.
And that’s valid too.

Sometimes the relationship was so disconnected, so painful, or so far gone that there’s simply nothing left to grieve. That doesn’t make you cold or unempathetic. It means your body has done what it needed to do to keep you safe.

9) You might grieve the version of yourself that never got what they needed

This one is not even about them—it’s about you. Or who you could’ve been if someone had met you with love and steadiness when you were little. If you’d been allowed to just... be.

Be silly, be loud. And take up space, instead of worry.

Sometimes it shows up as anger. Sometimes it’s sadness. Sometimes it’s just a weird kind of tenderness for the parts of you that had to figure things out alone.

You’re still here, but there’s a version of you that didn’t get to be. And it’s okay to mourn that, too.

10) You might feel the need to defend your decision

Especially when others don’t get it.

Maybe people say things like, “But they were still your parent” or “They tried their best.” And suddenly you find yourself having to explain the history, the trauma, the reasons why you walked away.

You don’t owe anyone your story. You don’t need to justify your grief, or your boundaries, or your relief. You made the decision you needed to make. And that’s enough.

How Do You Get Closure When They’re Gone?

Closure isn’t always something you get. Sometimes it’s something you make space for. Or something you keep coming back to in pieces.

Here are a few ways that might look—none of them “right,” and none of them required:

Talk to them.
Write a letter. Say it out loud. Visit their grave or don’t. What matters is giving the part of you that still has something to say… somewhere to say it.
Confide in someone you trust.
Grief after estrangement can feel isolating. You don’t need a dozen people who “get it”—just one person who won’t question your feelings or try to fix them.
Create a ritual that feels meaningful to you.
Light a candle. Plant something. Cook a meal they used to make. It doesn’t have to be a tribute to them. It can be something that marks this loss in a way that feels like yours.

Let yourself remember both things: what was, and what wasn’t.
You can grieve the small moments that felt good, and still stand by your boundaries. You can feel sadness and relief in the same breath.

If They’re Still Alive

You don’t have to wait until they die to start grieving the relationship.

Maybe you’ve been low-contact or no-contact for a while now. Maybe they’re still in your life in small ways, but the connection feels hollow—or tense—or one-sided.

You might already know there’s never going to be an apology. That they’re not going to change. That they’re never going to meet you where you are, even if they live another 20 years.

And even if you made peace with that a long time ago, it can still sting. Or feel like a loss.

Sometimes the grief shows up long before the funeral. And it doesn’t make it any less real. ❤️

How to Talk About It When Other People Don’t Get It

You probably already know this, but I’ll say it anyway: you don’t owe anyone an explanation.
Not about the grief. The boundaries. The funeral, the estate, or whatever else you’ve chosen not to be part of.

Still, people might say things that catch you off guard. Things like:

“But I thought you weren’t close?”
“It was still your parent. You should be there.”
“Well someone has to deal with it…”

And suddenly you’re managing their discomfort on top of everything else.

You don’t have to get into it, defend your choices, and rehash the past. Or even try to find a version of events that they’ll accept.

If it helps, you can say:
- “I’m not going to explain this right now.”
– “I’ve already made the decision that feels right for me.”
– “I hear you—and I’m not going to get into it.”

You’re allowed to keep things close. You’re allowed to protect your energy, even if it means letting someone else think whatever they want.

It doesn’t feel good to be misunderstood. But it also doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong.

When Therapy Might Help

You’ve probably already unpacked a lot when it comes to your family.
But grief can still stir up things you thought were settled—a familiar ache, an old story, a part of you you haven’t heard from in a while.

Maybe you’ve been more irritable than usual, or finding it harder to sleep.
Maybe there’s tension in your chest, or everything feels a little numb.
A part of you might feel guilty, even if another part knows you had no other choice.

You don’t need to make sense of all of it. But if something’s showing up, you’re allowed to slow down and make space for it—and to get support if that’s what helps you move through it.

If this hits close to home…

Grief is something we hold space for often in therapy. Grieving a parent you’ve cut out of your life (or never really had in the first place) can bring up guilt, doubt, frustrations or questions you weren’t expecting. You don’t have to carry that weight by yourself. Our team can walk alongside you as you sort through the loss and everything that comes with it.

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Am I Allowed to Grieve the Parent I Cut Out of My Life?