Navigating the in-between of ambiguous loss

There's a kind of heartache that largely goes unnamed - one where we can't quite put our finger on what we've lost, or where the loss itself remains unclear. It may be a loved one with dementia who is here in body but elsewhere in mind, or perhaps one in which relationships have set us adrift without any clear end. It was psychologist Dr. Pauline Boss who termed these experiences "ambiguous loss" in trying to find words for us to describe these valid yet often unacknowledged forms of grief.

Think of the parent whose grown child has decided to step out of contact, the beloved partner of someone struggling with addiction, the person who has had to leave their homeland. Each of these is a unique kind of grief that feels impossible to ever fully resolve.

While grief after a defined loss is bad enough, ambiguous loss can feel like being held in an emotional limbo. This kind of loss is barely recognised by society: no rituals, no sympathy cards, no forms by which one usually shows respect for such an ambiguous ending.

It is less frequently discussed, but ambiguous loss may also provide unexpected spaces to grow and build meaning. By learning to hold space for uncertainty, we may be able to further develop our emotional resilience for other parts of life. Not "getting over it" or "seeking closure," phrases that can ring especially hollow in these circumstances, but the exploring of a way to gently carry the uncertainty while still having some meaningful way ahead.

Finding what can help

1. Creating one's own rituals is very powerful

Some may find comfort in planting a new seed each spring to mark one more year of a loved one's absence, others may write letters they never send - not for therapy, but to acknowledge and keep alive an ongoing connection. These personal ceremonies give room to both the presence and the absence of what is lost. Research has shown that ritual behaviours may help to regulate our emotional responses to loss, even when we don't believe in the meaning of those behaviours (Norton & Gino, 2014). 

2. Sometimes, the more constructive strategy is not to reduce the ambiguity but to learn to live with it

This involves learning to hold two truths that might feel like polar opposites: "My loved one is gone and they are still here" vs "This chapter of my life is over and it's not". Rather than thinking of this as confusion, it may be better framed as one facet of emotional flexibility - moving out of dichotomous thinking and embracing the messiness of life.

What's particularly important to keep in mind is that ambiguous loss is often non-linear. Today might feel almost like any other day, and at other times, the acute pain of grief rushes in. This is neither a sign of "failing to cope" nor a sign of "being stuck"; this is a natural response to a tough situation.

3. It may be valuable to find solidarity and understanding from people who are in similar situations

They are less common than the many traditional grief groups, but ambiguous loss support groups do exist. Some may find community in online forums for adult children whose parents struggle with addictions, virtual spaces for those whose careers vanished economic transitions, or in-person support groups for families dealing with long-term missing persons. Not having to explain and justify your emotions may be a deeply therapeutic experience. 

4. Clarifying your values may make daily living more intentional and manageable

It's possible that reconnecting to our personal values provides some kind of compass. Making clear what matters most to us at our core can help guide day-to-day choices, even when the bigger questions remain unanswered. For example, if you value learning and growth, that might mean allowing yourself to read a chapter of a book, even when you're not feeling fully present. Small choices, if made in concert with what you consider important, can anchor us amidst uncertainty.

Final thoughts

If you're trying to support someone through ambiguous loss, one of the most comforting things you can do is to validate that these feelings might be here to stay. Rather than trying to bring the experience to an end with forced positivity, the sincere and unflinching witnessing of it can be meaningful. Sometimes being heard and given grace to grieve however one feels is fitting is more healing than being helped.

There can be no perfect map because each situation is so wholly unique. What matters is finding ways to honour your experience while slowly building a life that can hold both the uncertainty of the loss and the possibility of joy. This isn’t about diminishing the loss, but about expanding your life around it. Perhaps the most powerful thing we can do in the end is to acknowledge that some things in life remain unresolved - and that is not a failure on our part. It’s simply part of the complexity of human experience, worthy of recognition, respect, and compassion.