When Someone Dies and You Never Forgave them
The grief of unfinished business and the endings we don’t choose.
Some deaths are complicated before they even happen.
You feel it in your gut long before the call comes.
You already knew you weren’t going to write a eulogy.
You weren’t holding out hope for some perfect last conversation.
There was no plan to forgive. No part of you rehearsing what you’d say if you got the chance.
And then one day they’re gone.
Something shifts.
Maybe not in the ways people expect.
Maybe not in the ways you expected either.
Not sorrow exactly.
Not closure either.
But a pause. A breath. A change.
This is the kind of grief no one really prepares you for.
When we talk about grief, we usually mean the kind that comes from love.
But what about the grief that comes from harm?
From silence?
From unfinished business you were never going to finish anyway?
It’s a strange place to find yourself.
Not longing for the person, but still feeling something rise.
And it’s not because you miss them.
But because they’re no longer alive to be reckoned with.
Their absence confirms that the ending will never change.
There won’t be a call.
There won’t be an apology.
There’s just the truth you’ve been carrying, yet now it echoes a little louder.
When my biological father died, I didn’t feel peace.
But I didn’t feel haunted either.
What I felt was the absence of expectation.
The quiet certainty that I didn’t have to keep wondering if he’d ever see or care about what he did to us.
The story was over.
And even though I hadn’t forgiven him, I realized I wasn’t waiting anymore.
I hadn’t been holding out hope, but something in me had still been holding my breath.
It felt more like the door had been shut by someone else’s hand than resolution.
And I know I’m not the only one.
You can grieve someone you didn’t reconcile with.
You can feel sadness without softness.
You can remember what they did and still feel something in your chest when the reality sinks in.
Not everyone you lose is someone you loved.
But grief isn’t always about love.
Sometimes it’s about the weight of what never got repaired.
Sometimes it’s about the ache of unfinished chapters.
And sometimes it’s just your body responding to the finality of it all.
If you’ve read my earlier piece What If Healing Doesn’t Look Like Forgiveness, you know I believe that forgiveness is not the only path to peace. This moment, losing someone you never forgave, is proof of that. The grief here is complicated, layered, and entirely your own.
If you didn’t get to forgive them,
Or if you never planned to,
That doesn’t disqualify you from grieving.
You don’t have to wrap your story in grace just because someone died.
You don’t have to tell a softer version now that they’re no longer here to answer to it.
You can hold truth in one hand and grief in the other.
You can feel complicated and still be healing.
You don’t owe anyone a redemptive ending.
You’re allowed to carry what’s yours in whatever way makes sense to your nervous system.
Love today,
Heather 🌸
Still Here: A Grief Companion was created for grief like this.
Grief that isn’t predictable. Grief that doesn’t follow a clear arc. Grief that isn’t immediately understood by the people around you. It’s a six-week space to sit with all of it, without needing to forgive, explain, or be poetic about any of it. If your grief has felt quiet, strange, or hard to name, this might help.
