Today was one of the warmest Christmases we’ve had in a long while.
Seventy degrees. Blue skies. No cold air to bite your face.

For me, that kind of weather makes the holidays feel less cheerful. Less anchored. Like something familiar is missing.

And while my family doesn’t have a lot of cheer this time of year for other reasons, adding unseasonably warm weather to the mix takes away what little sense of “Christmas spirit” still exists. The cold, the quiet, the stillness … those things matter more than people realize.


How Christmas Changed for Me

Back in 1998, my father passed away four days after Christmas.
He was 55 years old, and had just turned 55 only 28 days earlier.

Every year since then, Christmas has carried a different weight. A different meaning. A different feeling whatever word fits best in that moment.

It’s not that I haven’t had time to process or accept it. I’ve lived with this loss for 28 years. The shock has faded. The anger has softened. The questions have quieted.

But grief doesn’t work on a timeline.

Grief is unforgiving.
Unwavering.
Indifferent to how much time has passed.

It doesn’t care that you’ve “handled it.”
It doesn’t care that you’ve grown around it.
It doesn’t care that life moved forward.

It will surface when it wants to… pulling old feelings forward and reminding you that it’s still alive, still present, still part of you.

And when it does, you don’t get to negotiate with it.
You live in it.


This Year Felt Heavy, But We Showed Up

This year, my mom and my sister felt it too. Heavy. Familiar. Unavoidable.

But we made the best of it.

Not by pretending everything was fine, but by vocalizing how we all felt and finding moments of happiness without letting grief take control. By allowing both to exist at the same time.

Because for us, Christmas isn’t the end of it.

In four days, we’ll relive it again on the 29th, the day he passed.

That’s part of the cycle of living with grief.
Anyone who’s lost someone knows this well.

The holidays are some of the hardest days of the year because grief has a way of showing up uninvited… louder, sharper, and harder to ignore. Here’s some tips for how we navigate this time of year:


Holding Space for Grief During the Holidays

There’s no right way to grieve, especially during a season that tells you to be cheerful, grateful, and festive.

But there are ways to move through it without letting it consume you.

1. Let Grief Exist Without Running the Show

You don’t need to shut grief down to survive the holidays.
You also don’t need to give it full control.

Let it be present without letting it dictate every moment.

Both can coexist.

2. Communicate With the People You’re With

Grief feels heavier when it’s carried silently.

You don’t need long explanations. Sometimes saying,
“This time of year is hard for me,”
is enough to ease the pressure.

3. Honor the Ones You’ve Lost and do it with Intention

Honor doesn’t have to be ceremonial. (But it can be if you want)

It can look like:

  • Sharing a story
  • A quiet moment of reflection
  • Visiting a place that feels connected
  • Carrying a habit or value they instilled in you

You don’t move forward by forgetting.
You move forward by remembering with intention.

4. Lower the Expectations

You don’t need to feel joyful.
You don’t need to feel festive.
You don’t need to “make the most of it.”

Showing up is enough.

5. Protect Small Moments of Peace

Walk outside.
Step away from noise.
Breathe when things feel heavy.

Peace doesn’t have to be loud to be real.


The Dark Summit Perspective

Grief doesn’t end.
It evolves.

And the holidays have a way of reminding you that some losses become permanent companions, walking with you year after year.

If you’re carrying grief this season, know this:

You’re not broken for feeling it.
You’re not behind for still carrying it.
You’re not weak for letting it surface.

You’re human.

Make space for the weight.
Protect moments of peace where you can.
Honor who you’ve lost by living, not perfectly, but honestly.

That’s not forgetting. That’s endurance.

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