Not everyone is celebrating: Navigating grief at Christmastime

The holidays are sold to us as “the most wonderful time of the year,” but for so many, this season brings more grief than joy. If you’re feeling heavy, hollow, or downright resentful this time of year, you’re far from alone. And if you’re grieving, be it a person, a pet, a relationship, a job, your health, or the version of the holidays you used to know, that ache is valid. Grief doesn’t take a break just because it’s December and Christmastime.

Maybe you’re the one who used to host the gatherings, and now you can’t even bring yourself to pull out the decorations.

Maybe you’re watching other people’s family holiday photos scroll by, and instead of feeling joy, you just feel pissed off, lonely, or invisible. That’s grief, too.

Christmas was my dad’s favourite time of year. He chose the tree with care and decorated it meticulously — right down to this ancient box of tinsel that he’d hang strand by strand, then collect and pack away to reuse the next year. He made a Christmas tree stand that was a winter scene made of plaster shaped like mountains and my sister and I would spend hours playing under the tree.

My grandma made the best butter tarts, shortbread, and rum balls. I have her recipes, but of course I can’t make them quite as well. The Christmases of my childhood were shaped by these people: their love, their effort, and their traditions. And they are gone now.

One of the hardest things to realize was that I’m the one who has to create that magic now, for myself, and for my own family. And honestly, a lot of it doesn’t feel magical at all. Putting up the tree, stringing the lights, it’s frustrating, exhausting, and kind of annoying.

I never fully grasped how much they did for us. How much care and intention went into making it feel like Christmas. I miss them, and I miss being on the receiving end of that love.

How does holiday grief show up for you?

Holiday grief can show up in all kinds of ways: frustration, anger, exhaustion, numbness, or even guilt … especially if you find yourself faking happiness so no one else feels uncomfortable. You might miss old traditions but feel no energy to create new ones. Or feel like you’re a burden if you share that you’re struggling. It’s a complex emotional landscape, and if this is where you are — I see you.

This is for anyone:

• Living with mental illness during the holidays
• Grieving a death, human, animal, or otherwise
• Experiencing job loss, caregiving fatigue, or burnout
• Struggling to afford Christmas
• Feeling disconnected, lost, or overwhelmed

Here are a few gentle reminders for grieving through the holidays:

You do not have to fake joy.

You’re allowed to skip gatherings, traditions, and expectations that don’t feel right this year.

It’s okay to cry, even on Christmas morning.

It’s also okay to laugh, to feel thankful, to feel both grateful and heartbroken.

Do the bare minimum if that’s all you can manage.

Reach out to people who feel safe. Let them know what you need (or what you don’t need). It might actually invite others to be vulnerable and share their own grief. We don’t have much space for that these days.

Use tradition (no matter how small) to honour them: my sister always buys us all Gold Rush scratch tickets because that’s what my Dad put in our stockings.

Start new traditions if that feels comforting. Light a candle for your person. Make their favourite dish. Or stay in bed with snacks and Netflix.

It’s okay if your version of the holidays doesn’t match anyone else’s. Grief looks different for everyone, even within the same family.

You can’t manufacture feelings just because the world around you says it’s time to be merry. Honouring your feelings, even when it’s not what is expected, takes bravery — and it gives others permission, too.

Remember, every wave of grief has a rise, a peak, and a fall.
It will come, and it will pass. And it may come again.
You’re human.

Sending love to you this holiday season.

-Karla