Learn how you can welcome grief into holiday traditions and rituals, creating space for grief to breath and your nervous system to reset.
The holidays arrive with a particular kind of intensity, don’t they? I love decorating the house and dreaming of all the magical moments to come, but I can also feel the stress rising and the pressures mounting. The season promises joy and connection, yet it can also bring grief closer to the surface, stir up family dynamics, and leave us feeling depleted rather than restored.
If you’ve experienced loss, whether recent or years ago, the holidays can feel particularly challenging.
The empty seat at the table becomes more pronounced. The traditions that once brought comfort now highlight absence. And there’s often an unspoken pressure to perform happiness, to “get through” the season as quickly as possible.
But what if we didn’t have to get through the holidays? What if we could move through them with our grief instead?
The Power of Ritual to Acknowledge Rather Than Avoid
Mary-Frances O’Connor, author of “The Grieving Brain,” reminds us: “Grief is the natural response to being aware of a loss and, during the holidays, you are going to be more aware because we carry out all the rituals we’ve always done with the people we’re close to.”
Ritual gives our grief a shape. It transforms our private sorrow into something witnessed and held. When we engage in ritual, we’re saying: this matters. You matter. This loss matters.
Rather than pushing grief aside to make room for celebration, what if we invited it to the table? What if we created rituals that acknowledge absence while still making space for joy?
Making Space for Both Joy and Sorrow
One of the most confusing aspects of grieving during celebrations is that we can feel genuine happiness and crushing sadness within minutes of each other. Many people feel guilty about laughing at a family joke or enjoying a meal when someone they love is gone. They worry that joy means they’re forgetting, or that grief means they’re not healing.
But humans have an enormous emotional range. We’re built to hold multiple truths at once. You can miss your mother desperately AND enjoy the pie she taught you to make. You can cry in the bathroom AND return to the table with a full heart. These aren’t contradictions. They’re the texture of love after loss.
Grief and gratitude can sit side by side at your table. They’re not fighting for space. They’re creating it together.
Rituals for Honouring Absence
The Empty Chair Practice
Many families avoid mentioning the person who died, afraid it will “bring everyone down” or “ruin the holiday.” But silence doesn’t erase grief. It just makes grievers feel isolated and invisible.
The empty chair ritual is a radical act of acknowledgment: this person is missing, and we will not pretend otherwise. Setting a physical place at the table with a plate, candle, photo, or meaningful object gives grief a location. It says: “You belong here. You are still part of this family. We see your absence.”
How to introduce this to family:
- “I’d like to set a place for Mom this year. It helps me feel like she’s still with us.”
- “I know it might feel strange, but acknowledging Dad’s absence actually makes it easier for me to be present.”
- “This isn’t about dwelling on sadness. It’s about making room for love.”
If family members resist, you can create your own private version: a small altar in your bedroom, a photo you carry in your pocket, a candle lit before the meal.
Speaking Their Name Aloud
There’s power in saying the name of someone who died. It breaks the silence. It reminds everyone that this person lived, mattered, and is still loved. Consider:
- Toasting them during dinner: “I want to raise a glass to [name], who would have loved this meal.”
- Sharing a story: “This reminds me of the time [name]…”
- Simply saying: “I miss [name] today.”
Each time the name is spoken, it creates a small opening for grief to breathe.
Permission to Adapt or Reimagine Traditions
Not all traditions serve us after loss. Some may feel sacred and necessary. Others may feel hollow or unbearable. Give yourself permission to ask:
- What traditions connect you to your loved one in ways that feel tender but nourishing?
- What traditions feel like performance or obligation?
- What traditions were “theirs,” something only they did or led?
Tradition is not law. It can be changed, paused, or abandoned. Some people need to keep everything exactly the same to feel their loved one’s presence. Others need to change everything because the old ways are too painful. Neither is wrong.
Examples of adaptation:
- “We always opened presents Christmas morning, but this year we’re doing Christmas Eve because mornings without Dad feel too hard.”
- “I can’t make Grandma’s stuffing the way she did, so I’m making something entirely different and calling it a new tradition.”
- “We’re skipping the big family gathering and taking a trip instead, somewhere none of us have been, so there are no ghosts.”
Changing a tradition isn’t erasing the person. It’s acknowledging that things are different now. You can even say it with love: “We don’t make Mom’s cranberry sauce anymore because no one else can make it like her. So we buy it from the store, and every time we eat it, we talk about how hers was better.”
Navigating Anticipatory Grief
For many grievers, the weeks before the holidays are worse than the actual days. The anticipation of imagining the empty seat, the missing voice, the changed traditions creates a low-grade anxiety that permeates everything.
Anticipatory grief is real, and it’s often harder than the event itself. The mind creates worst-case scenarios. The body braces for impact. But many people find that the day itself is surprisingly manageable. Yes, there are hard moments, tears in the bathroom, a sudden wave of missing. But there are also moments of unexpected lightness: a good conversation, a shared memory that makes everyone laugh, the relief of just being together.
How to prepare emotionally:
- Plan an exit strategy: Know you can leave early. Drive yourself, or have a friend you can call.
- Identify a safe person: Who can you signal if you need to step away?
- Create a grief plan: What will you do if emotions overwhelm you? Go for a walk? Call someone? Light a candle in a quiet room?
- Lower expectations: You don’t have to be “fine.” You just have to show up as you are.
Simple Daily Rituals for December
Beyond the big holiday gatherings, you can create small daily practices that help you stay connected to your grief and your loved one throughout the season.
Morning Candle Lighting
Light a candle each morning for your loved one. Say their name aloud: “Good morning, [name]. I’m carrying you with me today.” Sit with the flame for a few breaths before starting your day.
Memory Jar
Keep a jar by your bed. Each night, write one memory of your loved one on a slip of paper and drop it in the jar. By the end of December, you’ll have 31 moments of remembering.
Grief Date
Schedule intentional time to grieve. Watch old videos, look through photos, visit a meaningful place. Don’t try to “get over it.” Just be with it.
Connection Call
Once a week, call someone who knew your loved one. Share a memory, laugh about a story, cry together. Grief needs witnesses.
Nature Offering
Take something biodegradable like flower petals, bread, or written words on rice paper. Leave it in nature as an offering to your loved one. Walk away knowing you’ve honored them.
A Personal Practice: Wild Swimming in December
To regulate my own nervous system and be present to the gifts each day brings, I’ll be swimming in the sea every day in December. There’s something about the cold water that brings me back to myself, strips away the noise, and reminds me what matters.
Follow along at instagram.com/seekingceremony for my daily wild swims in the Pacific. Maybe they’ll inspire you to find your own practice that keeps you grounded through the season.
Final Reminders
✨ There is no right way to grieve, and there is no timeline.
✨ You’re allowed to change your mind about what you need, daily, hourly, weekly, even moment to moment.
✨ Grief is love. It’s not something to overcome. It’s something to carry with tenderness.
✨ You don’t have to earn the right to grieve. Your pain is valid, no matter how long it’s been.
✨ It’s okay to laugh. It’s okay to feel joy. Your loved one doesn’t need you to suffer to prove your love.
✨ You are not alone, even when it feels like you are.
As Francis Weller beautifully writes: “The work of the mature person is to carry grief in one hand and gratitude in the other and to be stretched large by them. Grief keeps the heart fluid and soft, which helps make compassion possible.”
This holiday season, may you find ways to honour both your grief and your gratitude. May you give yourself permission to adapt, to rest, to cry, to laugh, and to be exactly where you are. And may you remember that by making space for grief at your table, you’re not ruining the holidays. You’re making them more honest, more tender, and ultimately, more human.
