Holiday Grief and Healing: Holding Space for Joy After Loss

This season has become an unexpected lesson in holiday grief and healing, as I try to make the holidays feel special for the loved ones I still have here while grieving the loss of my son, Alex.. Every decision feels heavier this year. Every tradition carries a new weight. I am learning that holiday grief and healing can exist side by side—that sorrow and love don’t cancel each other out.

Today, a small box arrived at my door—gnome stocking holders I had ordered for the fireplace mantel. They were meant to be fun, lighthearted, festive. But with them came a decision I had been quietly wrestling with: whether or not to hang Alex’s stocking.

I knew hanging it would hurt. But I also knew that not hanging it would hurt in a different way—maybe even more. Because Alex is still my son. He is still part of this family. And I still need to include him in the holidays, even though he may not be here physically.

So I hung his stocking.

Seeing it there tonight, beside mine and Jason’s, completely overwhelmed me. The grief hit so suddenly and so hard that it brought me to the ground. It was a reminder of everything that is missing—and also everything that still remains. Love doesn’t disappear just because someone is gone. In many ways, it becomes louder.

I still need to put up the tree. I still need to hang the ornaments. And I know every one of those moments will carry its own wave of emotion. Each ornament will hold a memory, a story, a connection to years that feel both close and impossibly far away. It’s going to be hard. But it also feels important—not just for me, but for those around me who are trying, in their own ways, to navigate this season too.

Holiday Grief and Healing Looks Different for Everyone

This is going to be a very difficult holiday season. There is no way around that truth. I am learning that joy and grief can share the same space—that I can hold sorrow in one hand and love in the other, sometimes at the very same moment.

If you’re walking into this season with an empty chair at your table or a stocking that carries a deeper meaning than ever before, please know this: you are not alone. We are all doing the best we can with hearts that are still learning how to carry what they’ve lost—while trying to honor what still is.

And tonight, Alex’s stocking hangs where it belongs.