Unfinished Goodbyes: Healing Through Complicated Grief
Grief is heavy. But when the person you’ve lost is someone whose love felt unpredictable—whose presence was as dazzling as it was destabilizing—grief becomes even heavier—almost unbearably so. This is the world of complicated grief, a prolonged and often disorienting form of mourning that can leave you stuck in limbo and haunted by memories.
In March of 2024, I got the call that would change everything: my mother had been diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer. The news hit like a tsunami. There was no gentle preparation—just a devastating reality. She was dying.
The grief started right then. Not after her death, but in that moment after I got the news. This is what we call anticipatory grief—the mourning that begins while your loved one is still alive, as you slowly start to lose them piece by piece. It’s grief that lives with you daily, with every hospital update, every shift in mood, and every unanswered message. It carries a cruel contradiction: they are still here, but not quite the same. And you’re grieving in silence, never quite knowing when the end will come.
Watching my mother decline was one of the most painful experiences of my life. Her energy, her magic, that wild spark—faded. She became increasingly withdrawn, irritable, and unreachable. Her illness didn’t bring us closer; it pushed us further apart. She lived in another country, which only deepened the ache. I couldn’t sit at her bedside or show up the way I longed to. Our final interactions were often strained. Her passing wasn’t just a loss—it was a goodbye that never fully arrived.
And yet, even in her distance, I saw the woman who had shaped me—both in love and in pain.
My mother was larger than life. A true free spirit—vibrant, magnetic, and impossible to pin down. She lived from the heart, deeply guided by impulse. As a child, I often felt swept along by her moods and whims. We moved constantly, not for work or opportunity, but because she felt called to begin again. New towns, new schools, new apartments—each change meant starting over. I became the new kid again and again, trying to find footing while everything shifted beneath me.
I was the opposite of her in many ways—regimented, structured, craving routine and predictability. I needed grounding. Her spontaneity, while beautiful in many ways, often felt like chaos to me. I both admired her free spirit and feared the instability it created. Our relationship was shaped by this tension.
We loved each other deeply, but we didn’t always understand each other. And toward the end, when I needed her to let me in, she pulled away. I told myself it was the illness. But the child in me felt rejected—again.
What is Complicated Grief?
Complicated grief—sometimes referred to as prolonged grief disorder—is marked by an intense, persistent longing for someone who has died, lasting beyond what is typically expected. It’s not just “missing them” — it’s being unable to adjust to life without them, as if a part of you remains stuck in the moment of loss. Unlike the natural course of grief, which evolves and softens over time, complicated grief can linger like an open wound.
Risk factors include:
A conflicted or ambivalent relationship with the person who died
A history of trauma or attachment disruption
Lack of social support
Sudden, violent, or traumatic loss
A sense of unfinished business
A Clinical Lens on Grief
Freud described mourning as the gradual withdrawal of emotional energy (libido) from the lost person and reinvestment elsewhere. But what if that emotional attachment was never secure?
John Bowlby, the father of attachment theory, taught us that early bonds shape how we love—and how we grieve. My bond with my mother was deep, but inconsistent. That instability shaped how I attached to others earlier in life and how I responded when she died.
William Worden offered a framework of Four Tasks of Mourning:
To accept the reality of the loss
To work through the pain of grief
To adjust to life without the deceased
To find an enduring connection while moving forward
I’ve struggled most with the first task. Because how do you fully accept the loss of someone who, in many ways, you never fully had?
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross gave us the five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. They were never meant to be linear. For many of us navigating complicated grief, we swing between these stages, unsure of how to move forward when the past feels unresolved.
Anticipatory Grief vs. Sudden Loss
Anticipatory grief is the kind that begins before death—common when someone is terminally ill. You start mourning long before the physical goodbye. But if that goodbye is emotionally distant, strained, or hostile, it can create a trauma of its own.
Unlike a sudden death, which shocks the system, this kind of loss erodes it slowly. It creates a quiet ache. I spent nearly a year grieving my mother while she was still breathing—watching her fade in spirit and in body. And yet, when she finally passed, it felt like the sudden amputation of a limb. No more calls, long talks, arguments, or laughter. No amount of preparation could dull that final rupture. Because even when you’re expecting the end, it’s never quite real until it happens.
Sudden Loss and Traumatic Grief
While my experience involved anticipatory grief, it’s important to acknowledge the immense pain of those who lose someone suddenly—without warning, without time to prepare. This kind of loss often leads to what’s known as traumatic grief. It may be a car accident, a heart attack, a suicide, or another sudden tragedy that turns life upside down in an instant.
For those facing this kind of grief, there is no gradual letting go. There is only the shock and disbelief of the finality of a life that was here one moment—and gone the next. The nervous system is flooded. The questions come fast and loud: What if I had called? Why didn’t I know? How could this happen?
Complicated grief can follow a sudden loss just as easily as a prolonged one. In both cases, the mourner can become stuck—looping through trauma, longing, and unanswered questions. Whether the goodbye never came because it was stretched thin over months of agony or stolen in a single moment, the wound is real. And the healing still matters.
No matter how we lose someone, we all deserve the space and support to grieve fully and to find our way through the pain.
So How Do We Begin to Heal?
There’s no single map for healing from complicated grief, but there are steps we can take to begin reclaiming ourselves:
Acknowledge the truth of the relationship. Let go of idealized versions of the person and honor the reality—both the beauty and the harm.
Make space for ambivalence. It’s okay to feel both love and anger. Grief isn’t black or white.
Connect with others. Therapy, support groups, or trusted friends can hold space for the messiness.
Create a ritual. Even if you didn’t attend the funeral, you can honor the loss in your way.
Explore your story. Writing can help you heal what was left unsaid.
Reframing Grief: A Journaling Prompt
Take a moment to connect with yourself.
In what ways did this loss change me?
Where in my life am I still carrying their memory—and what does it feel like?
What part of me is still healing, and how can I offer it compassion today?
Wherever you are in your grief, may you meet yourself with compassion and grace.
Rooted in truth. Guided by clarity.
Melinda Bardos, LCSW
Writer + Therapist + Founder of Clarity Haus
Want to go deeper with this work? Download my free guided journal, Remember Who You Are → [Free Clarity Guidebook]
