Feeling Relief When Someone Dies: Why This Can Be Part Of Grief

I’ve wanted to write about this for a long time, but something inside me has always made me hesitate. Perhaps part of me has been anxious about addressing this topic as a grief therapist, and about how people might respond.

But here goes.

Relief.

It’s an emotion we don’t often associate with grief. In fact, it can feel almost taboo.

As a society, we can struggle to acknowledge that, for some people, some part of them may experience relief when a loved one dies.

“GEMMA, YOU CAN’T SAY THAT!”

I just did. And I stand by it.

I’m writing this because if you have experienced relief following the death of someone you love, I want you to know something important:

It does not make you a bad person. It does not mean you didn’t love them. And it does not mean you are grieving incorrectly.

Why might someone feel relief after a death?

• Perhaps your loved one had been ill for a long time.

• Perhaps they had been suffering, and knowing that their suffering had finally ended brought a sense of relief.

• Perhaps you had been caring for them. Being a carer can be exhausting, physically, mentally and emotionally. Your own life may have gradually gone on hold. You may have loved the person deeply while simultaneously feeling completely exhausted by the responsibility of caring for them. Both things can be true.

• Perhaps you couldn’t work in the way you used to, see friends, socialise, make plans or simply have time to yourself.

• Perhaps their illness or condition changed them. Conditions such as Alzheimer’s disease, dementia or Parkinson’s can sometimes profoundly affect a person’s behaviour and relationships. Someone who was once familiar to you may behave in ways that are frightening, confusing, upsetting or difficult to cope with. They may become angry or suspicious. They may accuse you of things you haven’t done, lash out at you, or say incredibly hurtful things, even in their final moments. You can understand that their illness contributed to this behaviour while still acknowledging the impact it had on you.

• Perhaps it was your beautiful pet, and in their final weeks, months or years you became hypervigilant about everything – Are they eating enough? Drinking enough? Toileting enough? Are they in pain? Why won’t they settle? Why did they go for a walk yesterday, but today they haven’t moved? They’ve been sick, but now they are fine. I don’t know what to do. I wish they could tell me. Is it time? How will I know?

• Perhaps your relationship with the person was difficult or complicated. You may have felt a sense of duty to care for them because of expectations, family roles or pressure - from other people or from yourself. “It’s my dad. I should do this.” But perhaps you hadn’t really spoken for years. Perhaps the relationship had been painful, distant or complicated long before the death occurred.

• Or perhaps you had been estranged from them. Estrangement can bring its own loss and grief. You may have spent years navigating that absence, wondering whether things might ever change.

• Sometimes, someone's death can bring a sense of closure, although that closure can be accompanied by sadness, anger, regret, guilt or many other emotions.

So, if relief can be part of grief, why don't we talk about it?

I think part of the answer is that many of us still believe there is a “right” way to grieve.  

• We imagine grief should look a certain way.

• We should be devastated.

• We should be visibly sad all the time.

• We should feel heartbroken for a certain amount of time.

And if you don't?

• Perhaps you didn't love them enough.

• Perhaps you didn't care.

• Perhaps there is something wrong with you.

• Or, even worse, perhaps you secretly wanted them to die.

Grief doesn't work like that.

We are complicated human beings, and our emotions rarely arrive one at a time in neat little boxes.

• You can feel relief and sadness.

• You can feel relief and anger.

• You can feel devastated one moment and laugh at something the next.

• You can miss someone terribly and also feel relieved that their suffering has ended.

• You can love someone and still feel relieved that the relationship, the caring responsibilities or the difficult circumstances surrounding their illness have come to an end.

These emotions don't cancel each other out.

And then comes guilt…

This is why I wanted to write this.

Because I know people experience these feelings. I have experienced them myself at different times and for different reasons. I know how quickly guilt can become tangled up in grief.

Guilt can tell you:

• You shouldn't feel this way.

• If you feel relieved, you must be a bad person.

• If you loved them, you wouldn't feel this.

• How can you possibly be relieved that they're gone?

Guilt likes to look for ‘evidence.’

•     You laughed at a joke?

You can't really be grieving.

• You went out and had a nice time?

You should feel guilty.

• You felt relieved?

See, that must mean you didn't care.

Before long, grief can become a long list of rules about what you should and shouldn't think, feel, do or say.

Listen, grief is hard enough without the guilt brigade (mis)interpreting everything you do, don't do, think, or feel.

There is no single way to grieve

There is no perfect emotional response to losing someone. And why? Because your relationship with them was unique, as were your circumstances. Your experience of their illness, your caring role, your relationship with them and the circumstances surrounding their death were all unique. So, your grief will be unique too.

• Relief might be a small part of your grief.

• It might be a significant part.

• It might come and go.

• You might feel it and then immediately feel guilty for feeling it.

• You might never experience it at all.

All of these experiences are possible.

• Feeling relief doesn't erase the love you had.

• It doesn't erase the sadness.

• It doesn't rewrite your relationship.

• And it doesn't make you a bad person.

If you are grieving and relief is an emotion you are carrying, I hope you can begin to make a little more room for it without judging yourself for having it.

And if you aren't ready to do that yet, that's okay too. Perhaps simply reading this and recognising that you aren't the only person to have felt this way is enough for today.

My final message: you are not a bad person. You are a human being experiencing all the messiness grief brings.

I hope, if nothing else, that this brings you a little relief.