“How do I grieve someone who caused me so much pain?”
This question is asked in therapy offices across the world by survivors who find themselves dealing with the death of their abuser. For many, the perpetrator’s death doesn’t bring the immediate closure or relief they may have anticipated. Instead, they’re hit with a wave of conflicting emotions—grief, anger, confusion, even guilt. The reality is that many survivors find themselves grappling with emotions that can feel intolerable.
As a psychologist specializing in trauma and loss, I have witnessed this struggle firsthand. When an abuser dies it is not necessarily the individual who is mourned—it is the loss of a relationship that never was, lost opportunity for repair, and a fractured self afflicted by the ongoing impact of trauma. These layers of experience make the loss particularly difficult to reconcile.
“How do I grieve him,” she asked, “when part of me is glad he’s dead?”
Grief is never simple, nor is it straightforward. When Rachel’s* father died, she described feeling “sorrowful rage.” “How do I grieve him,” she asked, “when part of me is glad he’s dead?” She resented him for the years of pain he bestowed upon her, yet she mourned the father-daughter relationship that never was. She felt protective of her younger self and furious that her father never acknowledged the harm he caused. Rachel’s feelings were “all tangled up” and every thread tugged on a different conflicting emotion.
In her study with survivors of childhood sexual abuse, Monaghan (2003) explored how the death of an abuser brings out a myriad of emotions that reflect what she termed “ambivalent mourning.” Ambivalence around grief can feel uncomfortable, as it doesn’t conform to society’s expectations of what grief looks and feels like. Many survivors mourn the loss of the “normal” life they never had. Sofka (1999) described this as grieving the “butterflies you never chased.” When a perpetrator dies, the survivor mourns the innocent childhood experiences that abuse stole from them. While the conflict between emotions can render guilt and confusion, it is important to recognize that abuse survivors are grieving multiple losses related to the perpetrators impact on their safety, dignity, and justice.
“I feel like I’m not allowed to feel sad because she made my life hell.”
John’s* mother died when he was 18. She had emotionally abused him throughout his childhood, leaving deep psychological wounds. At her funeral, while others praised her as a “wonderful woman,” John felt odd. “I feel like I’m not allowed to feel sad because she made my life hell.” But the truth was that he was crushed by her death because it meant that he would never be accepted by his mother.
One of the most significant challenges survivors face when their abuser dies is disenfranchised grief. Tullis (2017) suggested that disenfranchised grief stems from societal expectations about who is “allowed” to mourn and how people “should” mourn. When an abuser dies, survivors often face pressure from family or society to minimize their emotions. Friends or relatives might say things like, “At least it’s over now,” or “You should be glad they’re gone.” These platitudes dismiss the complicated emotions survivors feel and can make the bereaved think there is something wrong with them. Tullis wrote that this can engender feelings of shame and isolation.
Death of an abuser often means that there is no opportunity for reconciliation, accountability, or even a simple acknowledgment of wrongdoing. With death, the prospect of “closure” vanishes. Even if the survivor knows deep down that their abuser would never apologize, the death of that person stings with finality. Monahan (2003) explained that when the abuser dies without taking accountability, the survivor is left with a sense of unfinished business. This unresolved feeling can compound the grieving process, as survivors are not only mourning the death but also the lost opportunity for closure.
Grieving an abuser is a messy process that involves tangled up emotions, societal pressures, and oftentimes a sense that something has been “left hanging.” While the grieving process is undoubtedly painful, it is navigable. Therapy offers a place where survivors can openly explore their emotions and start to metabolize them. By creating space for these different feelings—whether they be anger, sadness, relief, or all of them simultaneously—survivors can take meaningful steps toward healing. The most impactful resolution for survivors happens from within.
*Note: The examples discussed in this article are composites of clinical experiences and are not based on any one individual. They have been constructed to ensure confidentiality.
References
Baker, D., Norris, D., & Cherneva, V. (2019). Disenfranchised grief and families’ experiences of death after police contact in the United States. Omega – Journal of Death and Dying, 80(4), 642-654. https://doi.org/10.1177/0030222819846420
Monahan, K. (2003). Death of an abuser: Does the memory linger on? Death Studies, 27(6), 439-454. https://doi.org/10.1080/07481180302899
Sofka, C. J. (1999). For the butterflies I never chased, I grieve: Incorporating grief and loss issues in treatment with survivors of childhood sexual abuse. Journal of Personal & Interpersonal Loss, 4(3), 227-240. https://doi.org/10.1080/10811449908409722
Tullis, J. A. (2017). Death of an ex-spouse: Lessons in family communication about disenfranchised grief. Behavioral Sciences, 7(2), 16. https://doi.org/10.3390/bs7020016
