As soon as the last pumpkin is packed away and the Halloween decorations come down, the world seems to flip a switch. Suddenly, the airwaves are filled with cheerful music, stores overflow with glittering lights, and every commercial promises togetherness and joy. For most people, it signals the start of the holiday season. But for those who have lost someone they love, especially to a traumatic or unexpected death, the holidays can feel like an emotional minefield. Let’s talk about holiday grief.
The season that once brought comfort now feels sharp and unfamiliar. Every carol, every family photo, every smell of cinnamon or pine can reopen a wound you thought had finally begun to close. The world rushes forward into celebration, but for the grieving, it can feel like you are standing still, watching life continue without the person you love most.
Why the Holidays Hurt
Holidays are built on rhythm and ritual. For many families, traditions become a map that anchors them through the years—whose house to visit first, who carves the turkey, who hangs the first ornament on the tree. When someone dies, that map changes. Suddenly, there is no clear direction, and the familiarity that once brought peace now brings pain.
It is not only the person we miss, but also the life we imagined with them. We mourn the empty chair at the table, yes—but also the birthdays, milestones, and futures that will never come. The loss echoes in what is no longer there: the sound of their laughter in the kitchen, the way they wrapped gifts, the jokes that only they could tell.
For those who have lost a child, a partner, or a loved one to overdose, fentanyl poisoning, or another sudden tragedy, the holidays carry an additional layer of grief. There is the pain of loss itself, and then the quiet discomfort of others who do not know how to approach it.
The Silence Around the Table
Family gatherings can become complicated spaces. You might find yourself dreading an invitation, not because you do not love your family, but because you already know what the room will feel like. The silence is heavy. No one says their name. No one mentions your loved one’s favorite dish or their old jokes. The absence becomes louder with every passing minute.
Most people mean well. They stay silent because they are afraid. Afraid of saying the wrong thing, of upsetting you, of breaking the fragile peace of the moment. They assume that bringing up your loved one will cause pain. What they do not realize is that not speaking their name often hurts far more.
Grieving parents and families are not fragile because they remember; they are broken because everyone else forgets. When someone says our child’s name, it does not reopen the wound—it acknowledges that their life still matters.
If you find yourself at a table this holiday season where silence feels suffocating, it is okay to speak first. You might say, “I know we are all thinking about them tonight,” or “This was always their favorite meal.” Sometimes, permission is all it takes to open a door that everyone has been afraid to touch.
The Weight of Guilt
For those grieving a traumatic loss, the holiday season can bring an emotion that feels confusing: guilt. You may find yourself smiling at a memory or laughing at a movie and then feel a wave of shame that you enjoyed something, even for a moment. You may wonder if feeling joy means you are moving on, or worse, forgetting.
But joy is not betrayal, it is survival. Joy does not erase your pain; it coexists with it. It is the proof that love can still live inside you, even when loss has changed everything.
Guilt often grows from the mistaken belief that our grief is what connects us to our loved one. In truth, love is what connects us—and love does not disappear. It transforms. You can love and miss someone deeply while still allowing yourself to experience moments of light.
The act of feeling joy, even for a heartbeat, is not disrespectful to their memory. It is a way of carrying them forward. The laughter that catches you off guard, the song that makes you smile, the sunrise that briefly eases the ache in your chest—these are not signs that you are healing too quickly. They are signs that love still has room to breathe.
When Traditions Break Down
One of the hardest parts of grieving during the holidays is deciding what to keep and what to let go. Traditions that once felt comforting may now feel unbearable. You might not want to decorate, cook, or attend the gatherings that used to bring joy.
That is okay. There is no rulebook for grief, and there is no right way to “do” the holidays after loss. If something feels too heavy, you have permission to set it down.
You may choose to skip certain events or change how you celebrate altogether. Some families travel somewhere new to avoid painful reminders. Others create new rituals that honor their loved one’s memory in gentle, symbolic ways—lighting a candle, cooking their favorite meal, or setting out an ornament or photograph in their honor.
Think of traditions as living things. They can grow, adapt, and evolve with you. Let them become what you need, not what the calendar demands.
How to Protect Your Peace
Grief during the holidays can drain your emotional energy, so protecting your peace becomes an act of self-preservation. You do not owe anyone your attendance, your explanation, or your emotional performance. You are allowed to say no.
Set boundaries that honor your limits. If a gathering feels too difficult, it is okay to leave early or skip it altogether. If certain topics are too painful, it is okay to ask others to avoid them. Surround yourself with people who make space for your truth—not those who expect you to pretend.
Quiet moments can also become sacred ground. Step outside for fresh air. Sit in silence with a cup of tea. Watch a movie that makes you laugh or cry. Find the small things that steady you.
Your peace does not have to look like anyone else’s. It does not have to be perfect or even constant. Some days, peace is simply breathing through the moment you thought you could not survive.
Speaking Their Name Is an Act of Love
One of the simplest and most healing things you can do during the holidays is to speak your loved one’s name out loud. Share a story. Post a photo. Tell a funny memory. You are not burdening anyone—you are keeping their memory alive.
When we speak their names, we remind the world that they existed, that they mattered, and that their story continues through us. Love never dies, but silence can make it feel as if it has vanished. Every time you say their name, you bring them into the present moment again.
If friends or family seem hesitant, you can lead by example. Begin with a memory: “I was thinking about how much they loved this song,” or “Remember the year they burned the rolls?” Often, that simple gesture opens hearts and invites others to share too.
Finding Joy Without Guilt
Finding joy after loss is not about replacing pain—it is about creating space for both. You can cry one moment and laugh the next. Both are holy.
Joy may come quietly at first: a moment of laughter with a friend, a sunrise that feels like a sign, the sound of children playing outside. Notice it. Welcome it. These moments do not mean you are done grieving; they mean your heart is expanding to hold both sorrow and light.
You might even create intentional moments of joy as a form of remembrance. Play your loved one’s favorite song and dance in the living room. Donate a toy in their honor. Write a letter to them about your favorite holiday memory and read it aloud. These actions do not erase grief—they transform it into love in motion.
A Season of Shadows and Light
If the holidays feel darker this year, know that you are not alone. There are many walking this same road—mothers, fathers, siblings, partners, friends—each carrying love that no longer has a place to land. The holidays will never be the same, but that does not mean they cannot hold meaning.
You do not have to chase happiness or pretend to be okay. Instead, focus on finding small, gentle moments of peace. Allow yourself to breathe in the quiet truth that even in your deepest grief, you are still capable of light.
Your loved one’s story did not end; it continues through you. Every time you speak their name, every act of kindness, every moment of courage to keep going—these are all ways of saying, “You mattered. You still do.”
If you or someone you love is struggling with overwhelming grief, visit our Resources Page for more information and subscribe to our YouTube Channel for helpful podcast.
This holiday season, may you find moments of warmth in the cold, connection in the silence, and hope in the remembering.
“Peace doesn’t arrive when everything is fixed; it blooms when we stop fighting what is.”
