The challenges of estranged grief

My late mother. Elegant, complicated.

By Caitlin Kelly

There are times that a deeply personal and private experience intersects with the larger culture. In journalism, it’s called the hook or the news peg, i.e. since everyone is now talking about it or thinking about it, it’s worth discussion and an assignment.

And my primary goal, often, for writing about a topic, especially a difficult and painful one, is to be of service, to comfort and to connect people to others who know their journey and who truly understand.

To explain to those who don’t understand and might become less judgmental as a result.

My mother Cynthia died Feb. 15, 2020 in a nursing home in Victoria, B.C. a seven-hour flight from our home in suburban New York. We had not spoken in a decade and even though I sent cards every Christmas and included a newsletter, no reply.

We had had some good years and some good visits.

But we had also had some very very bad ones.

She had been through so much in her life, including divorcing my father when she was 30, traveling through Latin America alone for years, living alone in such places as London, New Mexico, Mexico, Bath, Montreal and Toronto, surviving multiple cancers. She never re-married.

Intimacy was not her strong suit.

So, have I grieved this loss? Yes and no.

Which is why I wrote this story for The New York Times, probably the most revealing and personal words I’ve ever published there.

I was scared.

I’m actually a quite private person, and choosing to discuss painful issues before millions of readers worldwide is objectively somewhat frightening.

Here’s some of it:

When the phone call came from my mother’s nursing home, I knew there could be only one reason. She had died at 85, sitting in her armchair watching television.

I was her only child, but we hadn’t spoken, or even tried to be in touch, in the previous decade. She was a Mensa member, a world traveler of independent means and a voracious reader. She was also bipolar and an alcoholic. Worn out by decades of dealing with both, which meant years of chaos and broken plans, I had finally, reluctantly, exhaustedly, just given up trying to have a relationship.

For every anguished iPad farewell made to a dying Covid patient, or during another Zoom funeral or someone dearly loved and mourned, there are many people like me, estranged from their parents, children or siblings when those family members pass away. And because of this, we may not grieve the same way people typically expect. For some, the end of an unhappy and complicated relationship just comes as a relief.

As I write this, the story has gathered 49 comments, and they are so so painful to read, as so many others share their stories.

I was stunned to see how many people — through Twitter and Facebook — praised the story’s honesty about such a difficult topic and how many people struggle with estrangement in their own families. I had no idea.

It’s very hard to be estranged from a family member, as I still am from a half-brother who is 23 years my junior and father of year-old twins, a boy and girl I may never meet.

It’s also hard because it’s really taboo to admit you don’t speak to your mother or father or siblings or any of them. The myth that “family” equals love is a strong one. Those of us who don’t have that experience seek out others who get it. Our husbands and wives and best friends know. Our therapists know.

But it tends to remain secret and private because you can never trust someone new not to gaslight you or deny your lived experience since theirs has been so happy.

There is a great deal more detail, of course, I couldn’t include in this article. There are more characters and more history.

But the gratitude readers have shared has been deeply moving.

12 thoughts on “The challenges of estranged grief

  1. Robert Lerose

    Caitlin,
    Your NYT article is outstanding. I know it wasn’t easy for you to write this and to pull the curtain back on a painful part of your life. For what it’s worth, you did it with sensitivity and intelligence. You’ve often talked about emotional intelligence and the need for reporters to show empathy for the people they write about. You demonstrated your empathy throughout. Grief and estrangement and messy family relationships are never easy to talk about. When you go public with your own pain, it must be even harder, especially for a private person like you. Please know that you’ve touched a lot of people, as evidenced by the hundreds of comments generated. I hope this article brings your soul some type of healing.
    Robert

    1. Thanks…It was hard as hell to be that open. I am a private person!

      But I thought the piece needed this personal context, not just a dry/distant/”objective” take on it. Luckily, 99% of readers have been kind and appreciative.

      It’s gotten 374 (!!!) comments so far. This one, I knew, would speak to many others with this challenge.

      I don’t like airing “dirty linen” but I know that without details, it would not have been as honest about what it’s like for some of us.

  2. i can so appreciate and identify with this piece,.as you may remember from past comments, i also had a very complicated mother and my relationship with her remained that way until her passing. your raw and open honesty rings true to myself and i’m sure to others as well. well done –

  3. Jan Jasper

    Caitlin this piece in the Times was amazing. I really admire your courage in coming out into the open. Your blog readers of course have heard much of your experience over the years, and I remember one reader who had the audacity to tell you that you should keep trying to connect with your mom. That sort of minimizing of your experience just makes it worse…. You’d tried for decades to figure out how best to cope and had arrived at your best possible solution. But clearly, many Times readers understand and you have done a huge public service, shown by the hundreds of positive comments your article has received.

    1. Thanks… It was really scary to be that honest. I had never said it so clearly in print anywhere before that I was scared to be alone with my mother. I really was…and I did not go into the details…she had a manic breakdown when we were living in Mexico and I was left alone with a friend my age, 14, for 2 weeks there. We were actually just fine but many kids would not have been. After that, I couldn’t face a repeat. If I write a memoir, those details would be included. It was very frightening.

  4. It takes courage to share something so personal.

    Sadly, my mother was estranged for a period of time from her mother. There’s a lot of complexity in the story and I don’t know all of it, but I do know that her mother — my grandmother — wasn’t a loving mother. She repeatedly told my mother she wasn’t wanted and that she never would have had children if she had her time again. My mother never got to see her before she died and I know she feels great sadness about that.

    1. My maternal granny was kind to me…and not to my mother (!) So my mother also related better to HER maternal grandmother….although (?)she did raise my mother’s mother….

      All very confusing what is nature (personality) and nurture (how we are raised.)

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