The Season That Doesn’t Wait for You

The decorations go up in stores before Halloween is over. The music starts. Every commercial promises togetherness. And if you’ve recently lost someone you love, all of it can feel like it was designed for a world you no longer live in.

If that’s where you are, this post is for you. Not to fix anything, just to say: what you’re feeling makes sense.

Around holiday time, the calendar is louder than expected and plays a more important part of our lives. Most people brace for the big days: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year’s Eve. What catches them off guard is everything else. The first time you hear that song in a grocery aisle. The recipe card in familiar handwriting. The shift in light in late afternoon, the same hour your loved one always called. Grief during the holidays rarely arrives on schedule. It ambushes.

Be prepared for feelings that you may not expect. You may find yourself angry at the surrounding cheerfulness. It’s jarring when the world keeps celebrating. Resentment toward happy neighbors, forced small talk, even well-meaning friends is common, and it doesn’t make you a bitter person. It makes you someone in pain.

Reversely, you may find yourself feeling guilty about moments of joy. You laugh at dinner, and a wave of guilt follows. As if enjoying yourself means you’re leaving your loved one behind. It doesn’t. Joy and grief can sit at the same table.

Whether it’s a literal seat or a role they filled (the one who carved the turkey, wrapped every gift too elaborately, started the singing), absence takes up space. There is a feeling of dread at the site of an empty chair at the head of the table, or a special place on the sofa. Anticipating it is often worse than the moment itself.

A few other unexplained feelings may also appear. Exhaustion is likely. Grief is physically tiring. Add holiday logistics, and many people find they simply have nothing left. That isn’t weakness. It’s a body doing heavy work. Also, a sense of numbness can take over. Some people expect tears and find only a flat, distant quiet. Numbness is not a failure to grieve. It’s often how the mind protects you when feelings are too large to take in all at once.

Perhaps the hardest part isn’t the sadness itself but the expectation to hide it, the pressure to perform. Family members may want things to feel “normal” for the kids. Friends may avoid mentioning your loved one’s name for fear of upsetting you, while the reality is that hearing it would actually be a gift. You may find yourself managing everyone else’s comfort while your own needs go unspoken.

It’s worth remembering that there is no correct way to do this season. Not the first year, not the fifth.

As we move forward into these months of celebration, give yourself one extra permission. Before you plan anything, try telling yourself this: I don’t have to decide how the whole season will go. I only have to decide the next small thing.

In Part Two, we’ll look at some less obvious ways to move through the holidays, ideas that go beyond “light a candle” and “take care of yourself,” and other things that you may have tried before.