A Danish author’s childhood wish that her chronically ill mother would die has sparked a conversation about ambivalent grief and the thousands of Danish children who live with seriously ill parents without adequate support.
Christina Brunken’s story is uncomfortably honest. As a child, she prayed her mother would die. Not out of hatred, but exhaustion. Her mother lived with severe chronic illness for decades. The constant hospital stays, the unpredictability, the fear consumed Brunken’s childhood. When her mother finally passed away, relief washed over her. And then the guilt arrived.
As reported by DR, Brunken has now written openly about these forbidden feelings. Her account cuts through the cultural myth of grief as pure sadness. She refuses to flatten her mother into saint or villain. Instead, she shows how love, resentment, responsibility, and the desperate desire for liberation can coexist in a child’s heart.
I have lived in Denmark long enough to recognize the power of what she is doing. This country values frankness, yet certain truths remain locked behind closed doors. The experience of children living with chronically ill parents is one of them.
The Scale of the Problem
Brunken is not alone. Statens Institut for Folkesundhed estimates that roughly 15 to 20 percent of Danish children grow up with a parent who has a mental illness. Kræftens Bekæmpelse reports that approximately 35,000 children under 18 have or have had a parent with cancer. Another 122,000 to 150,000 children live with a parent who misuses alcohol. These are not small numbers. They represent classrooms full of children who carry adult burdens in silence.
The term used in Danish welfare systems is “børn som pårørende,” children as relatives. Sundhedsstyrelsen has published guidelines for hospitals and municipalities on identifying and supporting these children. But evaluations consistently show that many still fall through the cracks. Support varies wildly from one kommune to another. Some offer family therapy, support groups, and psychological help. Others offer almost nothing.
The Good Child and the Secret Wish
Children like Brunken often become what psychologists call “the good child.” They perform well at school. They take responsibility at home. They mask their distress to avoid burdening the ill parent or exposing the family. Qualitative Danish studies show that these children interpret a parent’s suffering as something they must alleviate by behaving perfectly.
The price is high. These children live with chronic anxiety and hypervigilance. They struggle to ask for help. They carry secret thoughts that contradict their carefully maintained image. Wanting a parent to die is one of those secrets. It feels morally unacceptable. Shameful. Unspeakable.
Yet grief researchers like Margaret Stroebe and Henk Schut describe relief as a normal variant of grief, especially after long illness or volatile family relationships. Relief is tied to the end of a care burden, of constant vigilance, of traumatic unpredictability. The dual process model of grief suggests people oscillate between mourning the loss and restoring their own life. Relief belongs to restoration. It is not betrayal.
Long Term Consequences
The consequences of growing up this way stretch into adulthood. Danish longitudinal studies show that children of parents with psychiatric diagnoses or substance abuse have markedly lower rates of completing youth education. They face higher rates of unemployment, social benefits, and psychiatric treatment themselves. Many describe feeling responsible for a parent’s mood and health well into their thirties and forties. That overshadows their own ambition and ability to plan a future.
Brunken’s openness fits into a broader Nordic trend. Over the last decade, several Scandinavian authors have written about complicated relationships with parents. Knausgård’s autofiction, Vigdis Hjorth’s novels, and Danish memoirs by Leonora Christina Skov and Esben Kjær have all challenged the cultural expectation of unconditional loyalty. These works spark debates about family shame and the limits of literary truth. But they also help people recognize their own experiences and seek help. For expats like me who come from cultures where family secrets are even more tightly guarded, Denmark’s willingness to air these stories can feel both shocking and liberating. It is not yet universal, but the conversation is shifting.
What Denmark Could Do Better
Danish experts consistently call for earlier and more systematic identification of children living with seriously ill parents. Psykologforeningen, Børn Unge & Sorg, and Kræftens Bekæmpelse argue that current efforts depend too much on individual hospitals, teachers, or general practitioners. They recommend mandatory documentation of whether patients have minor children. They want proactive referrals to support groups and close cooperation between hospitals, schools, and municipalities.
Some propose a specific legal right for children as relatives, similar to Norway’s statutory duty introduced in 2010. That law requires health services to identify and support children of mentally ill and substance abusing parents. Denmark has Serviceloven and Sundhedsloven, but these rights are spread across multiple laws and inconsistently implemented. The UK recognizes “young carers” as a distinct group with specific rights. Denmark does not.
Organizations like Børn Unge & Sorg offer free therapy and group programmes in Copenhagen, Aarhus, Odense, and Aalborg. Kræftens Bekæmpelse runs support groups for children whose parents have cancer. But there is no single national entry point. Offers are often project funded, meaning they may disappear. Adults like Brunken, who process their childhood later, typically turn to private psychologists or
