It is normal to grieve after the death of a loved one - expected even. But what happens when that death is a state-sanctioned execution? Does the grief then become far more complicated? For many families, and on top of the sadness, this kind of loss becomes wrapped in shame, secrecy and silence. Society would prefer not to talk about it while the public chooses not to acknowledge the pain.
Families of executed individuals are not only grieving the loss of a loved one but also facing the moral judgment of others. Society frequently views them through the lens of the crime and not the love they carry. Most people will be side-eyeing the bereaved while thinking, “how can you mourn someone who did something so wrong?” A question that follows them into spaces where grief should be met with compassion.
Regardless of the certainty of guilt, the loss remains personal. For many, the executed person was still a son, a daughter, a sibling or a parent. Or even a spouse. At the end of the day, they were a human being whose memory is tied to more than the act that led to their sentence. And for families who maintain their loved one’s innocence, that grief is compounded by anger and unresolved injustice.
This is the grief that psychologists refer to as disenfranchised grief , where mourning is not socially accepted or publicly supported. The late Dr. Kenneth Doka, who coined the term, wrote that society often denies the mourner the “right to grieve” due to various reasons among them who the deceased was, how they died or the relationship involved.
In the case of executions, grief becomes a hidden, marginalized process. According to this study, families of death row inmates often experience "nonfinite loss," a grief that begins during incarceration and is reignited by execution. These families are rarely offered bereavement care, and are often excluded from community support structures during the trial and after the death.
Because they fear stigma, many families end up not disclosing the nature of their loved one’s death. Some might lie while others simply retreat from friendships and community spaces. This results in the bereaved harboring a grief that festers quietly without recognition. The ripple effect is isolation. Studies have shown that grief outcomes are worsened when mourners feel they must hide their loss.
For high-profile executions, mourning becomes even more painful as the media sensationalizes the case and amplifies the narrative of punishment over pain. They could also keep replaying the crime. Meanwhile the families could be facing harassment as their attempts to speak out are dismissed as “defending the indefensible.”
This public scrutiny often forces loved ones to either mourn in shame or mourn in protest with both acts being emotionally exhausting.
The saddest part about grieving someone that has been executed is the lack of a clear beginning or end. This kind of loss is constantly evolving from appeals to court dates and postponements where each stage is a cruel rehearsal for the final moment.
Execution is known to drag on and in countries such as the United States, the average time between sentencing and execution is over 18 years. This is according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics. Due to the prolonged period of anticipatory grief and resulting emotional toll, families may develop symptoms of chronic stress, anxiety or complicated grief as the constant waiting blurs the line between life and death.
It is hard enough that a loved one is being executed, but having to love them after they caused harm (sometimes horrific harm) may come tangled with guilt and internal conflict.
A common example is parents wondering if they failed their child. Spouses may carry shame and children may grow up hearing society vilify the person they once called “dad” or “mom.” There becomes this desperate need to separate the person they knew from the crime that was committed. Others just feel rage and disappointment.
How do you mourn someone whose name brings discomfort? How do you share your story when others believe justice was served?
The Final Blow
After years and years of buildup, comes the actual execution. And unlike the long periods of buildup, it is often abrupt. Once appeals are exhausted the families will receive just a few days’ or hours’ notice. The death itself is clinical; carried out by strangers, witnessed under fluorescent lights and recorded in documents. There is no space for intimate goodbyes or ceremonies. Neither is there a peaceful passing.
Many families report post-traumatic symptoms following an execution, including flashbacks, insomnia and nightmares. Understandably, witnessing an execution (or simply knowing how it was done) can lead to lasting psychological distress.
An execution takes both a life and shatters the lives of those left behind. Disagreements arise in the form of one sibling supporting the appeals while another feels justice must be done. Such strenuous moments may even lead to couples divorcing due to the weight of grief.
Each member processes the loss differently, and some are left feeling utterly alone.
Children of the executed are often shielded from the full truth, only to discover it later with shock or betrayal. Some are bullied and others ostracized. Sadly, before they can even fully grasp what grief is, they have to internalize the shame and confusion that comes with their parents execution.
A report by Penal Reform International underscores the lifelong impact on children whose parents are executed. That they may struggle with identity, belonging and emotional development while still having to face stigma.
In many different cultures across the world, death is accompanied by rituals. From mourning clothes to community gatherings, prayers, songs and memorials. But families of those who are executed do not get to experience these rituals. The death is often treated as unworthy of reverence even though those left behind still carry love and try to seek meaning.
Spiritual and cultural practices surrounding death are based on ideals of honor, innocence and peace. When someone dies by execution, families may struggle with how to honor the deceased or worse, if it is even morally right to. Some faith leaders hesitate to preside over services while some cemeteries refuse burial. O
In certain traditions, prayers for the dead are essential for a soul’s passage. But what happens when no one is willing to say them?
In some cultures like Indigenous or African diasporic communities, spiritual practices are both personal and ancestral. For those families, mourning someone who has been executed may have to involve calling on ancestors or cleansing the spirit. All these unseen acts become acts of reclamation.
There is often a moral conflict between religious teachings of forgiveness and the legal system’s pursuit of punishment. While faiths like Catholicism have increasingly opposed capital punishment, individuals within those faiths may still struggle to reconcile the death of a “criminal” with doctrines of compassion.
Questions lie, “Does my loved one deserve peace?” or “Does the world believe they do?” keep lingering.
For those who manage to hold a funeral, the event is often stripped down. There may be no obituary or public invitation as fear of backlash from the community or press silences the ceremony before it begins.
Some prisons restrict what happens with the body. According to state-specific policies (like those in Texas), families must claim the body within a short window or it is buried in a state-owned cemetery unmarked and far from home. An act that deprives many of a resting place they can visit, a symbol of grief rituals in nearly all cultures.
Still, many families find subtle but profound ways to honor their dead. They tell stories and cook their loved one’s favorite meal on their birthday. Some keep letters and drawings and recite their final words. Others turn to public memory like creating online tributes and participating in abolition work; thus transforming mourning into a sacred act of remembering that insists the executed were not just the sum of their crimes.
Grieving someone who has been executed is not a journey with a clear end. It is complicated by trauma, isolation and injustice. Yet even in this particular kind of pain, healing is possible in small but loving ways.
Part A: Personal and Collective Healing
For families of the executed, healing often begins in private. Many find comfort in talking to a trusted therapist, especially one trained in trauma-informed care. Therapy offers a space where grief can be expressed without judgment. It is only in therapy where rage and love can coexist.
There are also few support groups that are designed for those navigating disenfranchised grief. The Texas After Violence Project remains one of the few public spaces gathering oral histories and offering healing resources to families of executed individuals. Other groups, such as Murder Victims' Families for Reconciliation (MVFR), bring together people on both sides of violent crime to explore restorative paths forward.
For some, healing emerges through creative expression. They write letters, poetry and make documentaries. Some do memorial artwork; all ways of saying the things that were left unsaid or to share a truth the world refuses to hear. Others turn to advocacy: speaking out against capital punishment or supporting others on similar journeys. Their grief stops being personal and becomes political - a protest against silence.
In some instances, families begin to mend after the rupture of an execution. They find strength in shared memories or communal acts of care. Grief becomes their point of reconnection. Also, new families are built through the networks formed in grief groups or advocacy spaces.
While the personal journey of grief after execution is painful and often invisible, the world around it is changing.
In the United States, support for the death penalty has declined significantly. According to a 2023 Gallup poll, 53% of Americans favored capital punishment for someone convicted of murder. This is a drop down from 80% in the mid-1990s. Most people cite concerns about wrongful convictions, racial bias and ethical contradictions.
Globally, more than 70% of countries have abolished the death penalty in law or practice. Organizations like Amnesty International continue to document and challenge state executions and U.S. states like Virginia and Illinois have formally ended the practice.
This shift in public opinion might not erase pain families endure, but what it does offer is a sense that the world is beginning to listen.
Religious views on the death penalty vary. However, many major faith traditions are moving away from supporting state-sanctioned killing:
The death penalty is often justified as justice, but at what cost? Its consequences ripple through generations, including the innocent. As the masses turn away from execution, there is hope that families left behind will no longer grieve in silence.
🌍 Global
worldcoalition.org - A global alliance of NGOs, bar associations and civil society actors working to end the death penalty and promote alternatives. Resources available in multiple languages.
amnesty.org - Human rights reporting, case studies and campaigns on capital punishment worldwide.
befrienders.org - A global network offering emotional support to people in crisis. Click the “Find Help” button to locate a support center in your country.
🇺🇸 United States
texasafterviolence.org - Offers oral histories, research, and healing justice tools for families impacted by executions.
988lifeline.org - Call or text 988 for free, 24/7 mental health support.
ejusa.org - Advocacy organization linking trauma healing with justice reform.
mvfr.org - U.S.-based but globally recognized, MVFR supports healing for families impacted by both homicide and execution.
🇬🇧 United Kingdom
mariecurie.org.uk - End-of-life and bereavement support, including for disenfranchised grief.
🇿🇦 South Africa & Africa-Wide
csvr.org.za - Trauma healing and advocacy for communities affected by state violence and capital punishment in post-conflict contexts.
🕌 Muslim World
muslimhands.org.uk - Offers emotional and spiritual support in select regions, including for grief and justice-related trauma.
Find answers to common questions about implementing the strategies discussed in this article.
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