Listen up, fellow mortals. We need to talk about that thing you've been avoiding harder than your colonoscopy appointment: those broken relationships you're dragging around like emotional luggage from 1987.

You know the ones – that sibling you haven't spoken to since the Great Thanksgiving Stuffing Debate of 2009, or that friend who you're still mad at for something so petty you can't even remember what it was, just that you're RIGHT, dammit.

Here's the thing: You're going to die. (Sorry if that's news to you, but someone had to say it.) And when you do, your kids are going to be standing around your funeral home casserole spread, wondering why Uncle Bob isn't there, or why Aunt Susan is sitting in the back row wearing sunglasses and leaving before the eulogy.

Is that really the legacy you want? "Here lies Dad: He held a grudge like a champion and took it to the grave."

For the Boomers: You folks were raised by the "we don't talk about it" generation. Your parents survived the Depression and World War II by stuffing their feelings down so far that they needed a colonoscopy to find them. You inherited this emotional constipation, and now you're sitting on decades of unspoken resentments like a dragon hoarding gold, except instead of gold, it's petty grievances and passive-aggressive Christmas cards.

Your relationship repair challenge: You think talking about feelings is what those "soft millennials" do. News flash: Even John Wayne probably apologized to someone once. Maybe.

For Gen X: Oh, you beautiful, cynical bastards. Those same emotionally constipated Boomers raised you, except they were too busy finding themselves in the '70s and '80s to notice you needed lunch money. You learned independence the hard way – by being forgotten at the mall. Now you've turned "I don't need anyone" into an art form.

Your relationship repair challenge: You've convinced yourself you don't care, but you're also the generation that made "Friends" the most-watched show of the '90s. You crave connection; you're just too cool to admit it.

Martha and her brother Tom haven't spoken in three years. The crime? When their mother developed dementia, Martha became the primary caregiver because she lived closest. Tom, living three states away, would swoop in monthly with opinions about Mom's care, criticism of Martha's decisions, and zero offers to help with the 3 a.m. wandering episodes or the doctor's appointments.

The breaking point came when Tom suggested Mom would be "happier" in a cheaper facility, while simultaneously refusing to contribute financially or take Mom for even a weekend. Martha told him exactly where he could shove his suggestions. Tom called her controlling. Neither has spoken since.

Mom died last year. At the funeral, they stood on opposite sides of the casket like some ridiculous metaphor for their relationship. Their kids, cousins who used to be close, now don't even know each other. All because two grown adults couldn't figure out how to say, "This is hard, and we're both doing our best with a shitty situation."

Richard spent 30 years building his plumbing business, always promising his son Kevin it would be his someday. Then Richard remarried when Kevin was 35. His new wife brought two adult children into the mix. Five years later, Richard announced he was making his stepson Dale a full partner because Dale had "shown real initiative" (translation: Dale actually showed up to work sober and on time).

Kevin lost his mind. Twenty years of half-assed commitment to the family business suddenly became a Shakespearean tragedy of betrayal. He quit on the spot, told Richard he was dead to him, and hasn't spoken to anyone in the family since – including his half-sister who was NINE at the time and had nothing to do with any of it.

Richard's now 73 with a bad heart. Kevin's teaching his own kids that Grandpa doesn't exist. All because two adults couldn't have an honest conversation about expectations, work ethic, and the difference between biological inheritance and earned opportunity.

At the 2018 Patterson family reunion, cousin Jenny made what she thought was a harmless joke about how her cousin Lisa's potato salad was "almost as good as store-bought." Jenny meant it as a compliment – she literally cannot cook and thinks store-bought is the gold standard. Lisa heard it as an insult to her grandmother's recipe, passed down through three generations.

Lisa's husband, trying to defend his wife, made a crack about Jenny's "third husband this decade." Jenny's current husband took offense. Someone brought up the incident from 1993 when a child broke another child's windshield. Before you know it, the Patterson family was split into Team Jenny and Team Lisa, with Switzerland-style neutral parties who just wanted to eat their hamburgers in peace.

Six years later, half the family doesn't attend reunions. Grandma Patterson is 94 and keeps asking why she doesn't see all her grandkids together anymore. The answer? Because grown adults are treating a potato salad comment like the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand.

Let's get real about what relationships might need your attention before you shuffle off this mortal coil:

Parent-Child Estrangement: You haven't talked to your kid since they: came out, married someone you don't like, chose a career you don't understand, or voted differently than you. Question: Is your pride worth more than knowing your grandchildren?

Sibling Rivalries: Still mad about who Mom loved best? Who got the bigger bedroom in 1975? Who was supposed to take care of Dad but didn't? News flash: Mom's probably dead now, so you won the stupidest prize ever.

Friend Breakups Over Politics/Religion/Money: You ended a 30-year friendship over a Facebook post. Really? REALLY?

Extended Family Feuds: You're not speaking to cousins/aunts/uncles over: inheritance disputes, wedding invitation snubs, or that thing someone said at Christmas dinner in 2003.

Business Partnership Dissolutions: You built something together, it went south, and now you cross the street when you see each other. Was it about money, or was it about ego?

Divorce-Adjacent Casualties: You got divorced and somehow your kids, siblings, or best friends became collateral damage. You made everyone choose sides like it's dodgeball in middle school.

The "They Know What They Did" Mysteries: You're so mad you won't even tell anyone why you're mad. Congratulations, you've achieved peak emotional maturity of a 13-year-old.

Here's what nobody wants to admit: Most relationship-ending fights aren't about the thing you think they're about. That potato salad comment? It's about feeling unappreciated. The family business betrayal? It's about feeling unseen. The caregiving war? It's about fear and grief and guilt.

But instead of saying, "I'm scared Mom is dying and I don't know how to handle it," we say, "You're a selfish asshole who never helps." Instead of saying, "I feel like Dad doesn't value my contributions," we say, "I'm never speaking to any of you again."

Before you take that grudge to the grave, ask yourself:

Look, nobody's saying you have to become best friends with someone who genuinely hurt you. Some relationships should stay dead – abuse, addiction, and actual harm are valid reasons to maintain boundaries. But if you're not talking to your brother because he forgot your birthday in 2015, maybe it's time to reassess.

The truth is, reaching out doesn't make you weak. It makes you the adult in the room. It means you've decided that connection is more important than scorekeeping. It means you've realized that life is too short and death is too permanent to waste time on prehistoric grievances.

Welcome to the guide nobody wants to need but everybody does. You've got a broken relationship sitting in your life like a stone in your shoe – annoying, painful, and preventing you from moving forward properly. This guide is designed to help you figure out if that relationship is worth repairing and, if so, how to start that awkward-as-hell conversation without making things worse.

Start with the self-reflection prompts (because you need to get your own head straight first). Then use the decision tree to figure out if this conversation should even happen. If you get the green light, choose from our templates based on your situation. These aren't magic words – they're starting points. Customize them, make them yours, but for the love of all that's holy, actually use them. That person isn't getting any younger, and neither are you.

So what's it going to be? Are you going to continue this elaborate dance of avoidance until one of you is in the ground? Or are you going to pick up the phone, send the text, write the letter?

You don't have to apologize if you weren't wrong. You don't have to forgive if you're not ready. But you could say, "This is stupid, and I miss you." You could say, "I don't even remember why we're fighting, but I remember why we were friends." You could say, "Mom would want us to get our shit together."

Or you could keep waiting for them to make the first move while time keeps ticking and everyone gets older and opportunities keep shrinking. Your choice.

But remember: The cemetery is full of people who were right. They're still dead, and their rightness died with them. The only thing that survived was the broken relationships they left behind and the kids still trying to figure out why Uncle Bob wasn't at the funeral.

Don't be Uncle Bob. Don't be Aunt Susan. Be the person who tried, even if it didn't work out. At least then your kids will know you valued people more than your pride.

Because in the end, nobody's going to stand at your funeral and say, "She really knew how to hold a grudge." And if they do, that's a pretty pathetic eulogy.

Next Issue: "Who Gets Grandma's Ring?" - The Estate Planning Conversation That Will Ruin Thanksgiving (Or Save It)