Missing Stories of Estrangement: The Loss of a Loved One I Still Had

Photo credit: Sixteen Miles Out on Unsplash

So many experiences in estrangement are unrecognized in our world. So many resources I wish we had. So much validation we are missing that we deserve. Our grief can go unnoticed by those around us. It is hard to take time off of work for being estranged, even though the grief we experience is just as valid as the grief one has for the loss of a loved one. 

But now I have experienced another form of grief that is tied to my estrangement that I can’t seem to find any resources on. The grief you feel when a relative you did love and have a relationship with, one of the few you were able to keep, passes away. Yes, I may be experiencing the ‘Stages of Grief’ one can find with any Google search, but I have an asterisk next to my Grief that no one can see: I have to experience this loss while also navigating how my estrangement impacts it. 

I have found myself Googling my experience in hopes of finding someone else who has written a blog, or done some sort of study, or anything really… that will tell me my experience is ‘normal’ and I’m not alone. I can find parts of it: that denial is normal, that anxiety can increase after a major loss, etc. But none truly seem to encapsulate what I am experiencing and how estrangement greatly impacts it. 

My hope in writing this is that I can bring words to an experience that others may have, even with variations, that we can’t currently find resources for. So many of our experiences in the estrangement community are under shared, under represented, stigmatized, and easily dismissed because so many in society still see it as not the norm. It is often misunderstood, even if by accident. So I wanted to share my story in hopes that it might combat this empty space where our stories should be. 

My story starts with estrangement of course. The details are not important for this piece, but I know many of you reading can relate to being a child in an unsafe house, trying everything to make it better, even at your own detriment, to then finally resorting to your last option: leaving. 

Leaving looks similar and different for all of us, but I know that we have all struggled greatly and experienced great loss. 

I had to leave because of my mom, my dad, and my sister. But the ripple effects of estrangement meant also losing all of my relatives and family friends. The truth was revealed when I left, my extended family was also so fractured, and no one reached out to me to see if I was okay after I never came back to my family. I left. I may have blocked my mom, my dad, and my sister on my phone, but I did not block any of my uncles, aunts, cousins, neighbors, or family friends. 

No one reached out. I was expecting this as my mom, a skilled narcissist, had painted a picture of our ‘perfect’ family to everyone that was in the vicinity. Still, one would hope that after a 21 year old disappears from their family and their life, that someone would reach out and check in. For months no one did, until one of my aunts, we will call her Aunt X, reached out asking for my mailing address to send me art supplies of my late grandfather’s she thought I may want.

Knowing my mom could likely be behind it, I gave her a friend of a friend’s address. And, of course, she reported it directly back to my mom. This is where another one of my aunts comes into the story. Aunt Laura, her true name, because she deserves to be honored. She reached out to me to tell me she found out Aunt X had reported my whereabouts to my mom, who apparently also got into my bank account to try and find out where I was working and living. 

Aunt Laura was looking out for me. I was scared to trust anyone, as you can probably see why, but she told me that she respected my decision because she imagined my reasons were valid ones, even if she didn’t know what they were. 

She lived in a different state from me, and we spent that next year slowly increasing contact and deepening trust. She was the first person I told where I lived, what I did for work, and how I was doing, truly. She was patient as I slowly opened up. She even passed through town with my uncle one summer afternoon and we got lunch and went on a walk. This was the first time I had told a relative the story of my childhood and why I left. She regretted she hadn’t noticed before, but again, my mom was highly skilled. 

This one afternoon was huge for me. I had reconnected with my aunt and uncle, with family members, for the first time since I was estranged. Maybe I didn’t have to lose everyone. 

Our relationship grew and I felt safe with her. I even thought about going to visit. 

On the afternoon of January 1st, 2023, she gave me a call to tell me she was re-diagnosed with breast cancer. They thought she beat it, but it was back. She had started treatment again and there were many unknowns. By February I was visiting her. That trip was full of emotions. I didn’t know how to be a guest in a relative’s home, I was really out of practice of being part of a family, but I was really grateful to have reentered that world in a safe way. I found out the doctors told her 3 years to live… but of course “everyone is different.” 

Our relationship strengthened and I made her a priority. I always said that if I could have chosen to keep one family member, it would have been her. She was the kindest person. 

I went up every couple of months to visit her (and my uncle and cousin, who I also got to reconnect with). They agreed to keep my whereabouts and other information away from my parents and sister. They kept me safe. 

Aunt Laura and I got to know each other as adults and as friends. We often went thrifting, picked vegetables at the local farm, cooked together, went on walks, visited museums, got lunch, and crafted together. She taught me how to sew. 

I inspired her to cross things off her bucket list while she still could. We spontaneously went paragliding, a thing she had always wanted to do. She said that the first time she got cancer, she would go sky-diving when she beat it, but she never went. Paragliding, she said, was even better than she could have imagined sky-diving would have been. She said that I made her feel calm, so she was brave enough to run off that mountain. It is a memory I will cherish forever. 

As the months and years went on, I watched her slowing down with each visit. She got weaker, couldn’t go on as many walks, and our activities became more limited. But she was still herself, still laughing, and still cooking, even when she felt very sick. I cherished every visit, knowing I had to as I never knew how long she had. I struggled with accepting that the one relative that connected me back to a feeling of family, one that loved and accepted me exactly as I was, was going to pass prematurely. 

And the day came when she called to tell me there was no more treatment. I flew up immediately and spent 10 days with her as she entered hospice. I took care of her with my uncle and cousin, said everything I wanted to say, and heard everything she wanted to tell me. And she passed, rather too quickly. 

Her death was something I had been anticipating for 2.5 years. Something I knew was coming. Something I knew I’d have to navigate. 

I had thought over those 2.5 years about whether or not I’d be able to attend her funeral, since my parents would be there. I decided not to go as I didn’t think it would be psychologically safe for me to be in a room with them for the first time after 5 years of no contact, especially since that room would be hosting the funeral of my most beloved relative. I had to choose my own safety. 

But this is where the grief gets complicated with the estrangement. I not only have to grieve Aunt Laura, I have to grieve my main connection to my family as a whole. I have to grieve the fact that I missed the funeral. I have to grieve the fact that I no longer have any female family members. I have to grieve the closest thing I had to a loving mother. 

I grieve all of these things simultaneously, while also navigating the past grief and trauma of estrangement that is popping up for me. My fear of abandonment is popping up, negative beliefs that I will always be alone have resurfaced, and the feeling of being alone in my experience is pulling me down. 

I was worried that I would not be included in the funeral because of my estrangement. I was lucky that the church was able to livestream the service so I could watch, but it hurt as I watched my parents sit in the second row at Aunt Laura’s funeral when they were the abusers. She had told me I was one of the best things that happened in her life, but I didn’t get to easily show up to her service. I didn’t get to grieve with all my ‘loved ones’ and have solidarity in the loss. 

I feared that my importance would have gone unrecognized in the celebration of her life. But since Laura knew she was going to die, she requested that the video of us paragliding was to play at the end of her service. It ended with her landing in the grass and me excitedly coming up to greet her, both of us cheering. I was honored and relieved.

It has now been a month and a half since she passed, and I am struggling with the grief.

The loss feels complex in ways that typical grief we read about does not seem to encapsulate. I can’t find articles or blogs or Reddit posts about when a close family member you actually like dies when you are estranged. It feels isolating. I thought I would just feel sad, but it is so much more confusing than I anticipated. 

It feels isolating when my coworkers find out my aunt died, but many assume it can’t be that major of a loss because it isn’t as common to be the closest with your aunt out of your entire family. Their sympathy is limited because they don’t know the importance. And it’s hard to explain it to them without having to tell them that I am estranged and Laura was the closest thing I had to a mother. 

I didn’t get to take much time off work for the funeral because I didn’t get to go to it. I took a day of bereavement and lied to my manager to say it was for the funeral, and hoped he wouldn’t ask specific questions. It wasn’t really a lie, but I was at home instead of flying to another state. If someone asked me about when the funeral was, I would tell them and they’d ask if I was going… and I would say no… but it wasn’t a simple answer. When I told my coworker her funeral was over the past weekend she said “it must have been nice to be surrounded by family,” assuming I had gone. None of it is simple. 

It’s hard to find validation of my experience when not many people I know have lived through estrangement and the challenges it causes. It’s hard to validate myself when society feels like it’s telling me it isn't as important or as impactful as losing a mother (which I’ve already lost). Colleagues or friends give flowers and expect you to be unwell if your mother dies a premature death. But when it’s your aunt and you can’t speak openly about your family relations, it feels easier to be dismissed. I feel like I sit here with society (and myself) telling me that I should be okay, but really it all feels so big. 

The loss of ⅓ of the family I still have is significant. I had already lost everyone before, and I worked to rebuild a relationship with 3 people. It was sacred. Laura was sacred most of all. And now she is gone. It is hard to not feel the loss of all the estrangement again. 

I sat here tonight Googling denial after a loss, feeling lonely after a loss, feeling numb. Each of these exist in the context of grief, but the nuances estrangement creates are missing. Our grief is complex and confusing, and it seems not many people can understand unless they have been through it themselves. 

My hope is that with sharing my story, maybe someone will feel less alone in their experience, even if it differs. We need our stories to be told. Our experiences and our side of the stories matter. I don’t want your feelings to be invalidated or for you to feel alone. We may have to hide in some capacity for our safety, but that doesn’t mean we are absent or missing. Our words and our experiences are valuable and deserve to be heard. I want to fill the void in the world where our stories are missing.

If you are struggling with the loss of someone you are estranged from, Together Estranged has developed the Gentle Guide to Death & Dying in Estrangement.