When Grief Is Complicated: Mourning Someone You Weren’t Close to Anymore
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By: Jamila Gomez
Grief doesn’t always arrive in the form we expect. Sometimes, it shows up quietly — not with tears and flowers, but with confusion, tension, and a subtle ache that lingers in the chest. This is what complicated grief often looks like — especially when mourning someone you had a strained, distant, or unresolved relationship with.
When someone passes away, society expects a certain kind of response. We’re supposed to remember only the good. We’re supposed to show up in mourning clothes with clean emotions and shared memories. But what about the people we weren’t close to anymore? The ones we had history with, but also hurt, distance, or emotional friction? What happens when someone passes before there’s been a chance to reconcile, repair, or even fully process what the relationship meant?
That kind of grief hits differently.
It brings with it a heavy blend of emotions — sadness, guilt, regret, relief, confusion. Sometimes the connection was real, but fractured. Sometimes it never quite healed. And now the opportunity for understanding, clarity, or closure is gone.
For many people in the Black community, these emotional complexities are even harder to name out loud. There’s pressure to stay composed. To be strong. To not speak ill of the dead. But grief doesn’t follow those rules. Especially not when there’s unfinished business.
Complicated grief might sound like:
• “I cared about them, but I’m not sure I liked who they were to me.”
• “We used to be close, and then we weren’t… and now I don’t know how to feel.”
• “I wanted to reach out, but I didn’t know how. And now I can’t.”
All of that is valid.
Mourning someone you weren’t close to anymore is still grief. It still deserves tenderness.
So what can be done with these feelings?
We start by telling the truth.
By giving ourselves permission to grieve without needing it to look perfect.
By honoring the bond for what it was — not what we wish it could’ve been.
And by remembering that complexity doesn’t make the loss less real. It just makes it more human.
To anyone holding this kind of grief:
You don’t owe anyone a neat story.
You don’t need to explain why it hurts.
You’re allowed to feel it all — even when it doesn’t make sense.
That, too, is a form of healing.
And that, too, deserves space.