The Question I Brought Home From Chicago's Family Summit

I recently returned from the Family Summit in Chicago, hosted by Mending Spaces Retreats. It brought together researchers, clinicians, mental health professionals, coaches, and parents—all united by a shared desire to better understand family estrangement.

I left encouraged. The field has come a long way.

Not many years ago, parents often suffered in silence with very few resources. Today there are books, conferences, retreats, podcasts, support communities, and researchers committed to understanding one of the most painful experiences a family can endure.

That progress matters. I am deeply grateful for it.

Yet as my flight home lifted above the clouds, another thought refused to leave me.

It wasn’t a criticism. It was a question.

Much of our work understandably asks:

How do we repair the relationship? It is an important question.

It deserves our best thinking.

But as I reflected on conversations throughout the weekend, I found myself wondering whether another equally important question has received far less attention.

How do we restore the human being who continues living inside the absence of the relationship?

Those are not the same question.

One seeks reconciliation. The other seeks restoration.

I believe parents need both.

Something else quietly stayed with me.

This is not research.

It is simply an observation from countless conversations over the weekend.

Many parents hesitated when photographs were taken.

Some preferred not to share their last names.

Several spoke about concerns that an estranged adult child might discover they had attended.

Others shared that they rarely speak about their estrangement with friends, neighbors, or even extended family.

I found myself thinking...

How much energy is required not only to carry the loss...

...but to continually manage its visibility?

That realization has stayed with me.

Support groups matter.

Communities matter.

Being understood matters.

After years of feeling isolated, validation can be profoundly healing.

But I have also come to believe something else.

Eventually another question emerges.

Now that someone understands my pain...

How do I begin living more fully again?

Please don’t misunderstand me.

Hope matters.

Reconciliation matters, and as Dr. Pillemer pointed out, there are elements to reconciliation that make it more or less likely to succeed.

Many families do find one another again, and I will always hope for that possibility.

But I no longer believe a parent’s capacity for joy, meaning, contribution, and purpose should remain entirely dependent upon another person’s choices.

There is another path.

Not away from love. Not away from grief.

But toward life.

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Over the past decade, I have watched this field evolve.

First came awareness.

Then research.

Then books.

Then coaching.

Then retreats.

Then conferences.

Each has expanded our understanding.

Perhaps the next evolution is not simply more information.

Perhaps it is creating environments that help people gradually reclaim the parts of themselves that grief has quietly diminished.

I don’t know exactly what that looks like yet, but I’m working on it.

One sentence has stayed with me since returning home:

Professionals are understandably focused on the relationship.

Parents are trying to survive the absence of the relationship.

Both are worthy of our attention.

Perhaps the future of this work is not choosing between them.

Perhaps it is finally giving both a place at the same table.

Warmly,

Jennifer

The content of this article is for educational and reflective purposes only. It is not therapy, legal advice, or a substitute for individualized mental health care. Discussions of estrangement should never be used to minimize situations involving abuse, neglect, or necessary protective distance.