Christmas has a way of amplifying everything: our joy, our stress, our memories, and especially our grief. For many, it’s a time of family connection. For others, it highlights painful distances, complicated relationships, and the empty spaces where healing never got the chance to happen. Many people carry conflicted grief, the kind that follows estrangement, unresolved relationships, or losses that don’t fit neatly into what society calls “a normal grief.” As Christmas approaches, these themes often return with tenderness and intensity. I wrote this on 4th June 2021 during a deeply painful time. I share it now because many people who are estranged from a family member feel confused, ashamed, or ‘undeserving’ of grief when that person dies. I hope this helps others understand that complicated grief is normal, human, and deserving of compassion and because many people struggle silently with this type of grief, believing that they are not entitled to grieve, they didn’t have a close enough relationship, their feelings are “wrong,” or they should be “over it.”
Why This Matters at Christmas? Christmas brings memories, rituals, absences, and longing to the surface. It reminds us of the people we wish were still here, the conversations we never had, the endings we never got, and the love that remains, even when connection was broken.
Grief after estrangement is real.
Grief after conflict is real.
Grief after distance is real.
“Recently, my family and I tried to honour the memory of my deceased younger sister. It’s been a year already. I was not ready to face it, I didn’t want to face it. It felt too soon. I spoke to my family and closest friends about feeling it was too soon. It only felt like six months ago since we experienced the horror of watching from the sidelines as she was brought to the church and laid to rest without being part of the ritual we have all come to expect when someone dies.
As a family, we are no strangers to death. We lost my only brother in a car crash in 1997. We have fond memories of his funeral (I know that might sound strange) but were in total control of his funeral. We have lost grandparents, aunts, uncles, and many friends.
For my sister’s funeral, we had no control, kept in the dark and subjected to punishment in a bitter way. This was expected due to our family estrangement. It doesn’t take away the crippling sadness, grief, and loss that follows a family bereavement.
Covid-19 added to our traumatic experience. We are known around the world for our Irish funerals, the rituals, the ceremony, the famous Irish wake. Covid-19 also took that away for all families these past 18 months, around the world.
I personally have struggled with grieving the loss of my younger sister, feeling like I’m not allowed to grieve because we did not have a relationship for many years. If she were still alive, we most likely still would not have one, as we chose to live different lives that did not align.
It makes it harder to embrace the grieving process when you feel you are not entitled to grieve or not expecting to grieve. However, grief came for me. I found myself crying out of nowhere, at the oddest of times, overcome with flashbacks of the horror that was her funeral: the pain of watching my immediate family suffer, the pain of not being able to support her through her fears, her treatment, her mortality… nor help her children in their grief.
It goes against the grain.
But such is my reality. We cope with the hand we are dealt. I’ve tried to stay present to my grief, to own it, to embrace the normality of it. The harsh reality is I have lost my baby sister. There is no hope of reconciliation, of changing the past, of a different future, of journeying alongside her in her darkest hours as one mother to another, as one sister to a sister, as human beings. All of that was denied in the name of vengeance.
I can only hope that her children will one day wonder why, seek me out, and hear me out. As I promised my dying sister in my last correspondence, I will speak well of her to her children and do all I can to support them through life.
If there is one thing I can pass on to people reading this, it’s that you are not alone in your grief and loss. It has not been normal to grieve alone. No handshakes. No open coffin. No Irish wake with stories of the past, the good and not-so-good antics of our deceased loved ones. It’s weird. It’s lonely. It’s heartbreaking and devastating. It can knock us for six.
I was fortunate to be part of a family well-versed in honouring the dead. We love to talk about them, to keep their memories alive, to find ways to honour them and support each other. We laugh, we cry, we hug and above all, we tried to understand each other’s perspective, so we don’t become bitter or twisted.
We all die, but how can we die with dignity and leave a healthy legacy for the people we leave behind?
Please write a will. Leave meaningful belongings to people who would treasure them. Talk about the arrangements you’d like when you become less able. Prepare as much as you can. Consider your wishes and let someone know. Say goodbye to your family and friends before it’s too late. Write letters. Make peace and let go, so you can journey to wherever your beliefs take you” 4th June 2021.
This is my personal experience, shared only in the hope that others walking through similar grief feel less alone. Above all, I wish you courage, courage to push forward through uncertainty, Anita x
If you recognise yourself in any of this, I want you to know: Your grief is valid, even if the relationship was complicated. You do not need permission to grieve.
If your grief feels too heavy, too confusing, or too complicated, please seek professional support. Speaking with a trained bereavement counsellor can help you find steadiness, understanding, and a safe place to process everything you are carrying. You are not alone this Christmas. There is help. There is support. And there is always hope.
If you need someone to talk to, these services offer free, confidential support:
Irish Hospice Foundation – Bereavement Support Line – 1800 80 70 77
Samaritans Ireland -116 123
Pieta House – 1800 247 247 or text HELP to 51444
Barnardos Children’s Bereavement Helpline – 01 473 2110
Mental Health Ireland Information Line – 01 284 1166
