In today’s post, I explore an interesting phenomenon I’ve noticed in the grieving process — our natural tendency to focus only on our loved one’s best qualities while overlooking their flaws. I unpack the reasons underlying this impulse, and reflect on why it might be worth reconsidering as we remember those we’ve lost.
I’d love to hear from you! When you’re done reading, click the “Leave a comment” button below and share with us:
Have you ever found yourself focusing solely on the good in a loved one who’s passed?
What’s one of their flaws that you’ve come to understand or appreciate more over time?
A quick intro before we get to today’s newsletter!
Hi, I’m Ruhie! A writer, doctor, mum, and a daughter who lost her dad to a terminal illness.
Welcome to:
Dear Dad,
Do you know something I find fascinating about grief? When someone we love dies, we have this tendency to focus only on their good qualities and completely ignore any flaws they may have had. It’s almost as if, once they’re gone, their imperfections disappear with them. We remember them and their life through rose-coloured glasses. I’m certainly guilty of this.
And I get it: no one wants to speak ill of the dead. For some, it might be out of superstition — a fear of angering their spirit. For others, it may feel pointless to bring up their flaws or rehash the past that can no longer be fixed. And for many, we simply want to remember them in a positive light because it feels like the ‘right’ thing to do. Now that they’re gone, we put them up on a pedestal and idealise their memory.
But I want to challenge us all to think about it differently. By not acknowledging the flaws of those we’ve lost, are we in fact doing their memory a disservice? Without recognising their true humanity — the good and the bad — we reduce them to a one-dimensional figure, stripped of the very things that made them unique.
It also means we risk denying the full truth and complexity of our relationship with them. Not all grief comes from the loss of a perfect connection. Many of us mourn people we had complicated, and in some cases, fractured, relationships with. Even our closest, happiest bonds, like the one I had with you, are filled with moments of conflict or missteps. When someone dies, we often lose the opportunity to resolve these issues or achieve closure. Isn’t it important to allow space for these complexities, which are an essential part of processing our grief?
Now, I’m not suggesting we should trash-talk or demean those we’ve lost, or focus solely on their shortcomings. It’s important to hold them in our hearts with love and respect, and certainly a crucial step in our personal healing is finding a way to let go of past hurts. And of course, every loss and relationship is unique, so how we remember someone is deeply personal — what feels right to share is up to us, and no one else can judge that. But what I am saying is that there is value in honouring the full scope of their identity.
You weren’t perfect, Dad. You were an incredible father in so many ways, and I’m deeply grateful for that. But like all of us, you had your imperfections. I want to remember all of you — not just the best parts, but who you were to your core, even if that means acknowledging your flaws.
What comes to mind for me is:
You were extremely competitive — even with your own kids. Do you remember how we used to play chess all the time when I was younger? I was in awe of your skill and loved learning from you. Inevitably, you would win every game, but I didn’t mind; deep down, I knew those moments were our way of bonding, and that made them special. But do you remember the first time I actually beat you? I was thirteen, and I could hardly believe it when I said “Checkmate!” You couldn’t believe it either. Losing wasn’t something you were used to, especially not to someone much younger, less experienced and far less skilled. You sulked the entire night, like a little kid who didn’t get their way — to the point where I actually felt guilty for beating you instead of proud. I laugh about it now, but seriously Dad, that was so not cool!
You also had this incredibly annoying habit of NEVER giving a straight answer to a question. Instead, you’d respond with another question or some vague comment that made absolutely no sense. And sometimes, you’d do this really frustrating thing where you’d shake your head, then nod, shake and nod, shake and nod, over and over again until I got mad and yelled at you to just answer the question!
But arguably, Dad, your biggest flaw — something you realised by the end of your life — was being a self-confessed workaholic. You loved your job and you were so good at it. But it became your main focus for years, often at the expense of time with your family. When you were with us, you were an amazing dad! Fun, carefree, encouraging, and full of life. But work almost always took precedence. You certainly weren’t alone in this — it’s something I’ve observed many men of your generation, especially migrant fathers, experienced. You worked so hard to provide for the family, which was admirable, but it often meant family life came second. It was only after your terminal diagnosis that you came to appreciate what actually matters most in life. It’s not our jobs, how much money we make, the kind of house we live in, or what kind of car we drive. At the end of the day, what truly matters is the people we love, the relationships we build, and the memories we create. All the intangible stuff. But by the time you realised this, it was too late.
Which I guess brings me to another crucial reason why I think it’s so important not to overlook the imperfections and mistakes of those we’ve lost — because it allows space for us to learn from their experiences and to try to avoid repeating the same missteps. Ultimately, recognising both the strengths and flaws of loved ones who’ve passed helps us reflect on our own lives and reassess our priorities. For me, this has meant learning to stop taking life for granted, making the most of the time I have, and truly cherishing the people I hold dear.
So I will honour you, Dad, by remembering ALL of you. Everything that made you the person I loved, admired, learned from, and miss deeply.
Miss you every day, Dad. Love you always. Until next time 💌
Ruhie
I’d love to hear from you! Click the COMMENT button below and share with us:
Have you ever found yourself focusing solely on the good in a loved one who’s passed?
What’s one of their flaws that you’ve come to understand or appreciate more over time?
Together, let’s honour their legacies by remembering everything that made them “them!”
Thank you for being here and supporting my work. I am truly grateful!
If you got value from this and you think others might too, please:
Click the HEART button 💟 and leave me a COMMENT 💬
SUBSCRIBE for free to my weekly email newsletter “From the Heart to Beyond” for more on all things grief, healing and life after loss
SHARE this post with someone you think would appreciate it
And don’t forget to
🌈 Live Fully
💛 Love Deeply
😁 Laugh Often
⏳ Make the most of the time we are given
Share this post