Death Doesn’t Erase Abuse: You Don’t Have to Mourn Someone Who Hurt You

Let me say the thing out loud that makes people squirm: Just because someone died doesn’t mean they were good.

It doesn’t mean they were kind. It doesn’t mean they deserve your grief. It doesn’t mean you owe them your forgiveness, your flowers, or your f*cking time.

Some people die before they ever take accountability. Some people die exactly how they lived—abusive, manipulative, cruel, distant, selfish. And when they do? You are under no obligation to mourn them.

The Lie of Instant Redemption

There’s this grotesque cultural myth that death scrubs a person clean. They were a monster in life, but suddenly they’re remembered as “troubled.” “Complicated.” “A good person deep down.”

Let me tell you something: Death is not a magic trick. It doesn’t rewrite history.

If they hit you, ignored you, shamed you, belittled you, manipulated you, gaslit you, humiliated you—you do not owe them grief just because their heart stopped.

Mourning Is Not Mandatory

Here’s what happens: You find out they died. And suddenly everyone’s checking in. “Are you okay?” “You must be devastated.” “Are you going to the funeral?”

And you’re sitting there, hollow, numb, maybe even relieved—and you think, What’s wrong with me?

Nothing. There is nothing wrong with you.

Grief doesn’t just mean crying and missing someone. Sometimes grief is confusion. Sometimes grief is rage. Sometimes grief is realizing you never got what you needed—and never will. And sometimes, grief is absence. The absence of pain. The absence of caring .The absence of f*cks to give.

You Don’t Have to Say Nice Things

You don’t have to pretend. You don’t have to post a tribute. You don’t have to light a candle or write a eulogy that glosses over the truth.

You can say: “They hurt me.” You can say: “They never apologized.” You can say: “I’m glad they’re gone.”

And you are still a good person for saying it. You are still worthy. Still whole. Still sacred.

Your honesty doesn’t make you cruel. It makes you free.

Grieve the Truth—or Don’t Grieve at All

You don’t have to mourn who they were. But you can grieve what they could have been. The parent you deserved. The sibling who could’ve protected you. The partner who never grew up. The version of them that never existed.

Or you can walk away and feel nothing.

Both are valid. Both are yours. Both are holy.

So let me offer this—on behalf of every person who’s had to hold their tongue at a funeral: You don’t have to mourn someone who hurt you. You don’t have to rewrite the story. You don’t have to perform grief to make other people comfortable.

The dead don’t get sainthood just because they're dead.