When the Holidays Hurt: Understanding Grief During Celebrations

The empty chair at Thanksgiving dinner. The person who always lit the first Hanukkah candle. The aunt who led prayers during Diwali. The cousin who made everyone laugh at Chinese New Year gatherings.

When someone you love dies, the holidays don't stop coming. And if anything, they arrive with even more weight because these celebrations were built around patterns, rituals, and roles that included the person who's gone. You're not just missing them on a random Tuesday. You're missing them in the exact moments when their presence shaped what these days meant to you and your family.

If you're dreading the holidays this year, or if you're already feeling the heaviness as these dates approach, I want you to know that what you're feeling makes complete sense. And you don't have to pretend otherwise.

How Do You Survive the Holidays When You're Grieving?

You survive by letting yourself grieve differently than everyone expects you to. The holidays will feel different because someone is missing, and acknowledging that truth is how you begin to move through it rather than around it.

The pressure to "keep traditions alive" or "stay strong for the family" can feel crushing, especially when you're also carrying the weight of being who you are in communities that don't always make space for your grief. Maybe you're grieving someone your family didn't accept. Maybe you're the only one in your family who celebrates certain holidays, and now the person who understood that part of you is gone. Maybe you're facing questions about why you're "still" sad when it's been months or even years.

Here's what I want you to hear: there's no timeline for grief, and there's no "right" way to get through holiday seasons when loss is present.

Why Do the Holidays Make Grief Feel Harder?

Because holidays are built on patterns, and grief is the breaking of patterns.

Think about it. Your uncle always carved the turkey. Your grandmother always made specific dishes for Chinese New Year that took two days to prepare. Your chosen family always gathered for Friendsgiving on a specific weekend. Your mom always said the blessing before Christmas dinner.

These weren't just tasks. They were roles that gave shape to your celebrations. They created a sense of safety and predictability. Year after year, you knew what to expect, and that person was woven into the fabric of how you experienced these moments.

When they die, you don't just lose them once. You lose them again every time that holiday comes around. Every time their role goes unfilled or someone else awkwardly tries to step in. Every time you catch yourself looking for them in their usual spot.

And for BIPOC and LGBTQ+ folks, there's often another layer. Maybe the person you lost was:

• The one who made family gatherings feel safe when others didn't accept your identity

• Your connection to cultural traditions that others in your life don't understand or value

• The bridge between your chosen family and your family of origin

• The person who helped you balance multiple cultural identities during holiday seasons

Losing them means losing the specific way they held space for you.

What Can You Actually Do When Holiday Grief Hits?

Here are some things that might help. Not all of them will feel right for you, and that's okay. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

Find ways to express how you feel

Before the holiday arrives, check in with yourself. What are you actually feeling? Dread? Anger? Sadness? A mix of everything? You don't need to have it figured out, but naming it, even just to yourself, can help.

You might write it down. You might tell a trusted friend. You might say it out loud while you're driving alone in your car. The point is to let the feeling exist instead of pushing it down because you think you're supposed to be festive.

Honour the loss through ritual

Ritual doesn't have to be big or formal. It just needs to acknowledge what's true: someone is missing.

Some people light a candle at the dinner table. Some people set an empty place with the person's favourite dish. Some people take a moment before the celebration begins to say the person's name and share a memory. Some people step outside for a few minutes to cry or talk to the person who died.

You might create something new that feels meaningful to you:

• Cook their signature dish, even if it's not perfect

• Wear something that belonged to them

• Play their favourite music

• Make a donation in their name

• Visit a place they loved

  
  

For cultural holidays, you might adapt traditions in ways that honour both your grief and your heritage. Maybe you light the Diwali diyas in their memory. Maybe you include their photo at the ancestor altar. Maybe you say their name during prayers or blessings.

Name it out loud, because others might be feeling the same thing

This one can be hard, but it's powerful. When everyone is gathered and pretending everything is fine, someone needs to acknowledge the absence. That someone could be you.

You might say: "I'm really missing [name] today. This was always their favourite part."

Or: "Can we take a moment to remember [name] before we start?"

Chances are, you're not the only one feeling it. You're just the one brave enough to say it. And when you name it, you give others permission to feel it too. You break the silence that makes grief feel so isolating.

This is especially important in communities where there's pressure to keep things "positive" or not bring down the mood. Grief isn't negative. It's love with nowhere to go. And it deserves to be acknowledged.

Key points to remember:

• You get to decide how much you participate in holiday celebrations

• It's okay to skip events or leave early if you need to

• You can say no to traditions that feel too painful this year

• You can create new traditions that make space for your grief

• You're allowed to feel joy and sadness at the same time

• Your grief is valid whether your loss was recent or years ago

• You don't owe anyone an explanation for how you're grieving

What If My Family or Community Doesn't Understand?

This is where grief can get lonely. Maybe your family thinks you should be "over it" by now. Maybe they don't want to talk about the person who died because it makes them uncomfortable. Maybe they never accepted your relationship with the person you lost, so they don't understand why you're grieving at all.

If your grief isn't being honoured in the spaces where you need it most, find the people who will hold it with you. Reach out to chosen family. Connect with friends who understand. Look for grief support groups, especially those for BIPOC or LGBTQ+ folks who get the specific ways that loss intersects with identity and community.

You might also need to set boundaries. You don't have to attend every gathering. You don't have to explain your grief to people who won't listen with care. You don't have to protect other people's comfort at the expense of your own healing.

Carrying Grief Forward

Here's what I want you to know as you face these holidays: you don't have to move on from your grief. You just have to find ways to move forward with it.

That might mean holidays look different now. That might mean some years are harder than others. That might mean you cry during celebrations and laugh during moments of sadness. All of that is okay.

Grief changes us. It reshapes how we experience joy, how we connect with others, how we understand what matters. The holidays will never be exactly what they were before. But they can still hold meaning. They can still hold connection. They can still hold love, even when that love includes the ache of missing someone.

You're not broken for grieving. You're not too sensitive. You're not taking too long. You're human, and you're carrying something heavy. The fact that you're still showing up, still trying, still looking for ways to honour both your loss and your life, that takes courage.

You Don't Have to Do This Alone

If you're in Surrey, Coquitlam, Greater Vancouver, or anywhere in BC, and you need support as you move through grief this holiday season, I'm here. I work with BIPOC and LGBTQ+ folks who are carrying loss, and I understand the specific ways that grief shows up when your identity and your loss intersect.

We can work together to find what you need right now. Maybe that's creating rituals that honour your person. Maybe that's setting boundaries with family. Maybe that's just having a space where you can say everything you're feeling without judgment.

If you'd like to talk, I offer a free consultation. You can reach out through my website, and we can see if working together feels like a good fit. You don't have to have it all figured out. You just have to be willing to let someone walk alongside you.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is it normal to dread the holidays after someone dies?

Yes, completely. Holidays are filled with memories, rituals, and expectations that can make grief feel more intense. Dreading them doesn't mean you're not healing. It means you're aware of what these days will bring up for you.

How long will the holidays feel hard after a loss?

There's no set timeline. Some people find the first holiday season the hardest. Others find that grief hits in waves, and some years feel heavier than others. You might always feel a pang during certain celebrations, and that's okay. Grief doesn't disappear; it just changes shape.

What if I feel guilty for enjoying myself during the holidays?

Feeling joy doesn't dishonour the person you lost. You can miss someone deeply and still laugh, still celebrate, still find moments of lightness. Both things can be true at once. Your person would want you to experience joy when it comes.

Should I keep all the same traditions or change things?

That's entirely up to you. Some people find comfort in keeping traditions. Others need to change things because the old ways hurt too much. There's no wrong answer. You can also do a mix, keeping some traditions and adapting others.

How do I handle people who say insensitive things about my grief?

You can set a boundary. Something like: "I appreciate your concern, but I'm grieving in the way I need to right now." You don't owe anyone justification for your grief. If someone can't respect that, it's okay to limit your time with them.