Grief & Growth
The Quiet Work of Forgiveness in Grief
Grief is more than sorrow; it’s a tangle of emotions that can include anger, guilt, regret, and even shame. One of the most misunderstood aspects of grief is the role of forgiveness—not just forgiving others who may have caused or contributed to a death, but also forgiving ourselves for what we couldn’t control.
If you’ve found yourself thinking I can never forgive them or I’ll never forgive myself, you’re not alone. These thoughts can feel like barriers to healing. But forgiveness, in the context of grief, is not about excusing harm or forgetting the past. It is about making space for yourself to breathe, to heal, and to carry your loss with less bitterness and more compassion.
Also knowing that finding joy again will in no way dishonour those losses or mean you’ve moved on from your grief. In this blog, we discuss how joy and grief can co-exist.
Forgiving Others: When Someone Else Caused the Loss
Some losses are complicated by anger directed at someone else. Maybe there was negligence, violence, or a simple, devastating mistake. A drunk driver. A medical error. A family argument that was never resolved.
Forgiveness here doesn’t mean pretending it didn’t matter. It doesn’t mean you condone what happened. It means refusing to let anger and hatred poison your life forever. Forgiveness is for you, not for them.
In a recent Oprah’s Book Club I watched, with author Wally Lamb, discussing his recent new novel “The River is Waiting”, individuals spoke of child death, and accidents that had taken their children, whether it be their fault or someone else’s.
Ways to begin:
Acknowledge what happened fully and truthfully. Minimizing the harm only buries the hurt deeper.
Accept that justice and accountability are separate from forgiveness. You can want justice and choose to release hatred.
Consider writing an unsent letter to the person, expressing your anger, grief, and what you wish they understood.
“Forgiveness is not an occasional act, it is a constant attitude.” – Martin Luther King Jr.
Self-Forgiveness: The Hardest Kind
Perhaps even harder is forgiving yourself.
So many of us carry an invisible weight of what ifs and should haves.
I should have noticed the signs.
I should have called more often.
I should have been there.
This is the voice of guilt. But guilt in grief often tells half-truths. It holds us responsible for things no one could have predicted or changed.
Practices for self-forgiveness:
Name your guilt specifically. What are you blaming yourself for?
Ask yourself honestly: If a friend said these things about themselves, how would I respond?
Write a compassionate reply to your own accusations. For example:
“You did the best you could with what you knew.”
“You loved them. That mattered more than you realize.”
Forgiveness doesn’t erase the loss. It reminds us that love, joy and imperfection can coexist.
Survivor’s Guilt: “Why Am I Still Here?”
If you’ve ever thought It should have been me or Why did I survive when they didn’t?—that’s survivor’s guilt. It is common among those who have lost someone to accidents, violence, sudden illness, or shared tragedy.
I myself often ask, “Why am I the only member of my family that has survived?” “Why do I get to live to an older age than my brother did?”
Survivor’s guilt often emerges from love and empathy. But it can become a form of self-punishment.
Reframing survivor’s guilt:
Recognize it as misplaced responsibility. Their death was not your choice nor fault.
Accept that continuing to live is not a betrayal. It can be a tribute.
Ask: How can I live in a way that honors their memory?
Choosing to live fully is not abandoning them. It is carrying them with you in how you love, act, and remember.
Reframing: From Punishment to Purpose
Forgiveness in grief is not a single decision. It’s a continual practice. Some days you will feel more compassion. Other days, the anger or guilt will return. That’s okay.
Reframing doesn’t deny the pain. It widens the lens through which you see it.
Instead of asking:
Why did this happen to me?
Why couldn’t I stop it?
You might ask:
What truth can I carry forward because they existed?
What did their life teach me about love, courage, or resilience?
How can I soften around this pain instead of hardening against it?
Instead of “What if?” - “So what now?”
Grief doesn’t ask us to be perfect. It asks us to stay human.
Conclusion: The Ongoing Work
Forgiveness in grief is quiet work. It happens in small choices: the decision to speak kindly to yourself, the willingness to let go of corrosive anger, the courage to see yourself as worthy of peace.
You don’t have to rush it. There is no deadline.
But as you do the work of forgiveness—of others, of yourself—you create room for healing. You make space to carry your love and your loss with greater gentleness.
You grow, not past your grief, but alongside it.
If this resonates with you, know you’re not alone. Forgiveness is one of the hardest—and most freeing—paths in grief. It is not about forgetting. It is about remembering with less pain, and living with more compassion—for others, and for yourself.