Finding Light in the Shadows: Grieving and Celebrating Through the Holidays

The holidays have a way of stirring things up joy, nostalgia, stress, and sometimes grief that sneaks in beside the celebration. As we move into this season, I’ve been reflecting on how loss shows up in those quiet moments, how love and longing can sit in the same room, and how we carry the people who aren’t physically with us anymore.

This is a piece of my story, and I’m sharing it because I know so many of you are carrying something similar.

The holidays can be rough, especially when you're grieving. Everyone's talking about joy and celebration, but if you've lost someone, this time of year can feel heavier. The empty chair at the table is more obvious. The absence is louder. And the pressure to be festive? Exhausting.

I will never forget November 3rd, 2021. I got the call that changed everything. My father had died. I was in complete shock I'd literally just talked to him the night before. He said he was on his way home. He never made it. I was so confused and had so many flooding thoughts.

As a newlywed, my first holiday season was supposed to be exciting, full of new traditions and celebrations. Instead, it was marked by an absence I never saw coming.

The Grief No One Talks About

Here's the thing about being a licensed clinical social worker: I know all the theories, all the stages, all the "right" things. But as a daughter? None of that prepared me for the reality of losing my dad. The feeling of an empty void was the hardest to come to terms with.

Three years later, I had my son. We named him Jordan Vincent, Vincent was my father's middle name. And while I'm so grateful for my baby, there's this ache that never quite goes away. My dad will never meet his grandson. My son will never know the man he's named after.

This is the grief people don’t always talk about mourning relationships that never got to exist. It’s not just missing who we lost, but missing all the moments they’ll never be part of.

What Grief Actually Looks Like

People love to say, “It gets better with time.” I used to just nod, but honestly? It’s not really true. What happens is you learn how to cope. You grow around the grief. Some days it feels manageable, almost small. Other days, a song comes on or you smell something familiar, and boom you’re right back in it.

Grief comes in waves. You can be fine one moment, laughing with your family, and the next moment a random memory hits you hard. That doesn’t mean you’re broken or not healing right. That’s just grief doing its thing.

✨ Pause + Reflect

Who do you find yourself missing the most this time of year? Sometimes simply naming the person lifts a little of the weight.

What I Wish People Understood

Three holidays later, I’m still learning what grief actually means. It’s completely normal to feel like something’s missing during the holidays. Because something is missing someone you love. The heaviness, the moments where you’re just going through the motions all of that is valid.

But here’s what keeps me going: honoring the people we’ve lost means continuing to live. Really live. Finding joy, laughing until your stomach hurts, creating new memories that’s not betraying their memory. It’s actually the best way to honor them.

What Actually Helps (From Someone Living It)

Feel your feelings. All of them. Sadness, anger, guilt, and yeah, even the unexpected joy. When I miss my dad during the holidays, I let myself miss him. I cry. I look at old photos. I tell stories about him. Pushing it down just makes it heavier.

Connect with people who get it. Isolation feels easier sometimes, but connection is usually what we need. My family has become my anchor. We talk about my dad, we acknowledge he’s not here, and we also make new memories together.

Honor old traditions and create new ones. I still make that pecan pie every year. Some years it’s a tribute; other years it hurts and is uncomfortable. But I do it because it connects me to him. At the same time, I’m building new traditions with my husband and son not replacing what was, but embracing what is.

Acceptance isn’t saying, “I’m okay with this.” It’s not some finish line where grief stops touching you.

For me, acceptance is understanding that part of me will always long for my dad. But the time we had, and what he taught me that stays. It’s holding my son and seeing flashes of my dad in his personality, feeling heartbroken and grateful at the same time.

It’s living with the both/and grief and joy, absence and presence, sorrow and love. Some days acceptance comes easier than others. And that’s okay.

If you’re grieving this holiday season, there’s no “right” way to do it. You don’t have to perform happiness for anyone. You don’t have to pretend the empty chair doesn’t hurt.

But you can grieve and still find light. You can miss someone terribly and still laugh. You can feel the void and feel grateful. You can honor the past while living in the present.

Your loved one’s absence is real. And so is your life. Both can be true at the same time.

As I move through each holiday season without my dad, I’ve learned that grief isn’t something we “get over.” It becomes something we learn how to carry with a little more grace, a little more strength, and a lot more compassion for ourselves.

Every year, I’m reminded that honoring him doesn’t mean staying stuck in sadness. It means remembering, loving, laughing, and living in the ways he would’ve wanted for me. That’s the quiet, steady gift grief sometimes leaves behind.

If you’re struggling, please reach out for support a therapist, a friend, a support group. You don’t have to do this alone. If you're in Virginia and is looking for a therapist we are accepting new clients!