Yesterday, I wrote a post that I decided not to publish.
It was about grief.
A complex grief.
About being close to the dying of someone whose presence in life carried not only love, but also hurt.
About the strange coexistence of sorrow, resentment, tenderness, relief, attachment, and unfinished things.
And as I sat with it, I realised something:
Some experiences still feel too complex for public conversation.
We are often not comfortable with grief — let alone complex grief.
And yet many of us grieve relationships that were difficult.
Parents who hurt us.
Family members we (loved and) feared.
People whose absence brings both sadness and relief.
And because these experiences do not fit easily into the stories we are used to telling, they often remain hidden.
Quietly carried.
Rarely spoken aloud. Or unspoken.
It made me realise how much work we still have to do — collectively — in learning how to hold more complex emotional truths without fear, shame, or the need to simplify them.
Because grief may not always be pure sadness.
Sometimes it is conflict.
Ambivalence.
Unfinishedness.
And perhaps part of becoming more human is learning to make space for that too.
—
Still reflecting on this. While navigating grief.
Much love,
R
unspoken. on complex grief.
