Estrangement Doesn’t Expire Just Because You’re Dying

Let’s kill the myth that death is supposed to fix everything. That dying somehow erases abuse. That terminal illness softens toxic relationships. That just because you’re facing the end, you should suddenly want everyone you cut out to come rushing back in. That the people who went no contact with you should suddenly regret it and come running.

No. No, no, and still no.

Estrangement is a boundary. Not a countdown timer. And dying doesn’t make that boundary any less valid.

The Deathbed Reunion Fantasy

There’s this deeply embedded cultural script: You’re dying, so of course it’s time to make amends. Time to “let bygones be bygones.” Time to forgive your narcissistic parent, invite your abusive sibling, call up the ex who broke you, and share a moment of peace before you die.

Here’s the truth:

If you walked away from someone to protect your peace, you don’t owe them an invitation to your death.

Your deathbed is not a reunion tour. It’s not a stage for closure. It’s not a second chance for people who didn’t give a shit when you were alive and well.

You Don’t Have to “Heal the Family”

Dying doesn’t make you the emotional janitor for generations of dysfunction. You don’t have to tie up everyone’s loose ends. You don’t have to be the bigger person—especially not now. You don’t have to comfort people who refused to comfort you.

You can die holding the same boundary you fought tooth and nail to build. You can die estranged. You can die unapologetically distant.

And that doesn’t make your death any less worthy. It makes it honest.

Estrangement Is Still Sacred

Estrangement is a form of survival. It’s an act of deep, personal truth. It is often the only way someone can live authentically, safely, and freely.

So why the hell would we expect people to undo that just because time is running out?

People will say, “But they’ll regret it if you don’t let them come.” You know what?

They should have thought of that before you had to cut them off. Regret is not your burden to fix.

📣 (And for those confused by no-contact kids…)

If you’re reading this and your kids aren’t speaking to you—If they’ve gone no-contact, disappeared, or drawn hard lines— Please hear this without defensiveness:

That didn’t happen out of nowhere. And no, dying doesn’t entitle you to automatic reconnection. A terminal diagnosis isn’t a hall pass back into someone’s life.

You might be ready for closure. For peace. For a reunion that wraps your story up nicely.

But here’s the thing: they might not be. And they don’t owe you that.

“Can’t you reach out for me?” “Will you tell them I just want to talk?” “Can you at least convince them to come to the funeral?”

No. I’m not going to force your kids to speak to you. I’m not going to guilt-trip them into showing up. And I’m damn sure not going to gaslight them into closure.

Because as a death doula, I’m not here to orchestrate emotional clean-up for decades of damage.

I’m here to hold space for what is—not what you wish it was.

And sometimes? What is… is distance. Silence. Boundaries. Estrangement that needs to stay intact.

That doesn’t make them heartless. It makes them human.

Final Word

Here’s your permission slip, signed in big bold ink:

You don’t have to see them. You don’t have to explain yourself. You don’t have to perform forgiveness.

You can die exactly as you lived: With intention. With boundaries. With the peace you earned.

Because estrangement doesn’t expire just because your life is winding down. If anything, that’s when your truth matters most. And honestly - all this applies to the living too. Protect your peace at all costs.