Surviving the Guilt of Not Saying Goodbye: How to Forgive Yourself When You’re Lat

We all have that one memory we replay on a loop. It’s the moment where we wish we had turned left instead of right, or picked up the phone instead of letting it go to voicemail.

I sat down with Mira thinking we were going to talk about the general heaviness of life, but we ended up touching on something so specific and so painful that I haven't stopped thinking about it since. We need to talk about the guilt that doesn't just visit—the kind that moves in and refuses to pay rent.

Mira is hilarious (we immediately bonded over Fourth Wing), deeply relatable, and fiercely loving. But underneath that, she has been carrying a secret weight for nearly a decade that she barely whispered to anyone—not even her dad or her boyfriend of six years.

She didn't say goodbye to her grandfather.

For nine years, she convinced herself that this one decision made her a bad person.

If you have ever felt like you failed someone you love, or if you are holding onto a "what if" that is eating you alive, you need to read this. Mira’s story is a reminder that we are often the villains in our own stories, even when we don't deserve to be.

The One Who Didn't Go

Mira’s relationship with her grandfather wasn't just "good"—it was the kind of bond we all dream of. He was a "gentle giant," a 6'4" biochemist who did the crossword every morning and played card games with her. He was the center of their family. He took the grandkids on special trips when they graduated middle school—he took Mira on a cruise to Mexico. He was her person.

So when he got sick with melanoma that metastasized to his brain, Mira’s world stopped. It happened fast. Within six weeks, the patriarch of the family was fading.

When he moved to the hospital for the final week and a half, the whole family took turns visiting. They went to hold his hand, play cards, and say their goodbyes. Everyone went.

Except Mira.

She told me, "I just didn't want that to be my last memory of him." She wanted to remember him in his house, strong and commanding, not in a hospital bed. It’s a feeling I think so many of us can relate to—that desperate need to preserve the version of the person we love before the sickness takes over.

But then, the guilt started creeping in. Her cousin changed her mind and went. Mira started second-guessing herself. Finally, one night, she had clarity. She decided she had to go. She had to hold his hand. She had to say "I love you."

The next morning, she got ready. She was resolved. She was walking down the driveway with her dad to go to the hospital.

And then her dad’s phone rang.

Her mom was on the other line. He had just taken his last breath.

Mira told me, "The guilt was instantaneous. I was like, 'No, no, no. I just decided I was gonna go see him. And now I can't.'"

The car ride to her grandmother's house was silent. When they walked in, the family was having breakfast, laughing, unaware that their world had just changed. Mira couldn't handle it. She hid in the guest room, the "computer room," and buried her face in her hands.

She felt like she couldn't look her family in the eye. She felt she had failed him, and by extension, failed them. And while her family grieved together, Mira grieved in isolation, convinced she didn't deserve to be part of the collective mourning because she was the one who didn't show up.

3 Things I Learned About Processing Guilt

Listening to Mira talk about the "shame spiral" she lived in for nine years was heartbreaking, but it also taught me so much about how we treat ourselves when we're hurting. Here is what I took away from our conversation.

1. Isolation Feeds the Monster

Mira spent nearly a decade "raw dogging" this trauma. She didn't go to therapy for it. She didn't tell her dad how she felt. She didn't tell her boyfriend the depth of her shame. She bottled it up because she felt like everyone else had moved on and "healed correctly," while she was stuck.

But here is the truth: Silence doesn't heal you; it poisons you.

By isolating herself, Mira allowed her brain to rewrite history. She convinced herself she was a villain in her own story. When she finally opened up on the podcast, she realized her dad didn't judge her—he was surprised. He had no idea she was carrying that pain. We have to give the people who love us the chance to support us. We cannot do this alone.

2. The "Brother Test" for Self-Forgiveness

We are so mean to ourselves. We say things to ourselves that we would never say to a friend.

Mira said something that really struck a chord with me regarding how she’s starting to heal. She asked herself: "If the roles were reversed and my brother didn't go, would I tell him he should feel ashamed for 10 years? Would I tell him he's a bad person?"

The answer, obviously, is no. She would tell him it’s okay. She would tell him his grandfather knew he was loved.

If you are holding onto guilt, try this. Picture someone you love deeply doing exactly what you did. Would you hate them? Or would you give them grace? If you’d give them grace, you have to find a way to give it to yourself.

3. Grief Can Take the Backseat

We talked about how, when you lose someone, you feel like you're not allowed to be happy. If you're smiling, you're not grieving right. If you go on a bachelorette party or enjoy a dinner, you're betraying their memory.

But grief is not the driver. It’s a passenger.

Mira talked about how grief changes from a boulder to a rock, to a pebble in your pocket. It’s always there, but it doesn't have to stop you from living. In fact, her grandfather—the man who loved to laugh and play games—would have hated that she spent her 20s in self-loathing. He would have told her she was being ridiculous. Honoring the dead doesn't mean stopping your life; it means carrying them with you while you live it.

The Expert Take: Reframing the Narrative

There was a moment in the interview where something clicked for me, and I had to share it with Mira.

She had spent nine years thinking she failed him by not arriving in time. She thought she was late. She thought she missed her chance.

But what if he did that for her?

We hear stories all the time about people who wait for their loved ones to leave the room before they let go. Or people who hold on until everyone arrives. Mira’s grandfather knew how much she loved him. He knew she wanted to remember him as the strong, commanding gentle giant.

I told Mira:

"He made that choice so you didn't have to."

Maybe he let go when he did because he knew she was on her way, and he didn't want her last memory of him to be the hospital bed. He wanted her to keep the cruise ship and the card games.

This is why we have to talk about our "messy" feelings. Because when we’re stuck in our own heads, we only see one angle—the one where we messed up. But when we open up, someone else can show us a different perspective. One where we aren't the villain, but the protected.

You Are Not Alone

Mira is still figuring it out. She’s still working on forgiving herself. And that’s okay. Healing isn't a straight line, and it certainly doesn't happen overnight.

But if you are out there carrying a backpack full of rocks—guilt, shame, "should haves," and "could haves"—please put it down for a second. You did the best you could with the information and emotional capacity you had at the time.

Your loved ones do not want you to suffer in their name. They want you to live.

I’m so proud of Mira for sharing her story, and I hope it helps you release just a little bit of that weight you’ve been holding.

You are not alone.

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