Quiet Presence: Navigating the Holidays After a Loss
When someone you love dies, the holidays don’t just “feel different.” They can feel like they belong to a different life—one you’re not living anymore.
The traditions you used to look forward to may suddenly sting. The songs, the lights, the smells, the family jokes… all of it can turn into a spotlight on who isn’t there. You might find yourself crying in the grocery store because you passed the frozen rolls they always bought or feeling angry that everyone else seems to be going on like nothing has changed.
Holiday grief is messy. These are the days that are “supposed” to be joyful, cozy, and full of togetherness. When you’re grieving, joy can feel impossible, inappropriate, or like a betrayal. You might feel guilty for laughing at a joke, and then guilty for not being able to feel anything at all.
It’s Okay If the Holidays Look Different This Year
Maybe you don’t have the energy for the big, orchestrated celebration this year. Maybe things were already complicated or tense even before your loss. Wherever you’re starting from, you’re allowed to simplify.
That elaborate breakfast spread by 7 AM? Maybe this year you order takeout. Maybe you skip most of the decorations or put up only a few meaningful ones. Maybe you sleep in. Being honest about what you can handle right now isn’t giving up on the holidays. Your loved one wouldn’t want you to exhaust yourself trying to maintain traditions that have become burdensome.
Making Space for Remembrance (If and How You Want To)
For some people, the hardest part is how normal everything looks on the outside while everything feels broken on the inside. It can help to create small, intentional ways to acknowledge the person who died.
That might look like lighting a candle before you eat, making their favorite dish and naming it out loud, leaving an empty chair or setting out a photo, or writing them a letter and tucking it into your pocket.
These rituals don’t make grief neat or predictable—you might still get ambushed by memories when you didn’t plan on it. But building in a few moments of remembrance gives your grief somewhere to land. Instead of chasing you all day, it has a place in the room.
Take Care of Yourself
Let go of what others expect. If you need to skip the big party in favor of a quiet night at home, that’s valid. Their expectations don’t have to dictate how you spend your energy.
Communicate your needs clearly. People often say, “Let me know if you need anything,” and then stand there unsure. If you have the bandwidth, try being specific: “I can come to dinner, but I can’t stay late” or “Could you handle the shopping this year?” Not everyone will respond the way you hope, but some people will step up if you give them something concrete to do.
Allow yourself a “messy middle.” Grief can pull you toward extremes: do everything exactly the same or cancel the whole holiday. Sometimes the most compassionate option is in-between. Maybe you skip the big gathering but host something smaller. Maybe you go to the party but only stay an hour. Give yourself flexibility to honor both your grief and your desire for connection.
Give Yourself Grace
Everyone touched by this loss is carrying it differently. Someone might want to keep every tradition the same. Someone else might avoid all of it. You might feel okay one hour and completely undone the next.
Grace doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine. It means letting yourself have the reaction you’re actually having, not the one you think you “should” have.
You don’t have to earn your place at the table by being “strong” or “positive.” You are already doing something incredibly hard: carrying love and loss at the same time. If the only thing you manage this season is to get through the day—maybe with some tears, maybe with a moment of unexpected laughter—that is enough.