I don’t know about you, but it seems that from Thanksgiving through the end of the year, the death rate always feels higher. This year, it has felt even more noticeable. The week before Christmas alone, I attended three funerals. That prompted me to investigate it, and I discovered that the death rate truly does rise during this season. Research even shows a spike between Christmas and New Year’s. It’s no wonder depression and grief often intensify during the holidays. But there was another reason this final week of the year stood out to me.
Almost seventeen years ago to the day, my mom suffered a debilitating and life-changing stroke that left her paralyzed on one side of her body. Even though so much time has passed, the week between Christmas and New Year’s always brings me back to those memories. My mom passed away about fifteen months after that stroke. I remember the date, but because it isn’t connected to a holiday, the anniversary doesn’t always come to mind.
People process grief in different ways, and for many, the holidays seem to intensify those feelings.
There is something about the holiday season that has a way of amplifying what we have lost. The lights are brighter, the music is louder, the expectations are higher, and yet the silence left behind by those who are gone can feel deafening. The calendar tells us this is the season for joy, but our hearts often tell a different story. Grief does not ask for permission to show up, and it rarely follows a schedule that makes sense to anyone else.
One of the most painful symbols of holiday grief is the empty chair. It is the chair no one sits in at dinner anymore. The place setting that no longer gets used. The familiar voice that once filled the room but is now only heard in memory. Traditions that once brought comfort can suddenly become reminders of what has changed.
For many people, traditions are emotional anchors. When someone we love is missing, those anchors can feel like weights pulling us down instead of keeping us steady. You might find yourself dreading gatherings you once looked forward to or feeling emotional over something as simple as a favorite recipe or a shared laugh that no longer happens.
Coping with these moments does not mean pretending the pain is not there. It means acknowledging it without letting it consume you. Sometimes that means allowing yourself to step away for a moment. Other times, it means giving yourself permission to feel sadness without guilt. Grief does not dishonor your loved one. Love is the reason grief exists at all.
Not everyone has a house full of people during the holidays. Some are surrounded by others and still feel deeply alone. Holiday loneliness can come from loss, strained relationships, distance, or feeling unseen and forgotten. Social media and cultural messaging often intensify this feeling, showing curated images of happiness that do not reflect reality.
Loneliness during grief can make you question your worth, your faith, or your place in the world. It can whisper lies that you have been left behind or that your pain does not matter. This is where intentional connection becomes important, even when it feels difficult. Sometimes connection does not look like a large gathering. It may be a phone call, a quiet conversation, a walk, or time spent in prayer and reflection.
Scripture reminds us that God sees us in our loneliness. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). Even when human connection feels absent, God’s presence remains constant.
Grief does not look the same for everyone, even within the same family. One person may want to talk openly about the loss, while another avoids the subject entirely. Some may express emotion freely, while others grieve quietly and internally. During the holidays, these differences can create tension, misunderstandings, or emotional distance.
Unspoken expectations often fuel conflict. Someone may feel hurt that a loved one seems “too happy,” while another feels pressured to be sad when they are trying to move forward. These dynamics can make gatherings feel stressful rather than comforting.
Navigating this requires patience and grace. It helps to remember that differing expressions of grief are not a measure of love. Communication, when possible, can ease tension. Even simple statements like, “This time of year is hard for me,” can create space for understanding. Grace allows room for each person to grieve in their own way.
While some traditions become painful, others can be reshaped. Creating new traditions does not erase the old ones or replace the people we love. Instead, it allows healing to coexist with remembrance. Honoring loved ones can be a meaningful part of moving forward.
This may look like lighting a candle in their memory, sharing stories, donating to a cause they cared about, or setting aside time for reflection and gratitude. New traditions acknowledge loss while also allowing space for hope. They remind us that love continues, even when life looks different.
Ecclesiastes 3:4 tells us there is “a time to weep and a time to laugh.” Both can exist together. Honoring someone’s memory does not mean living permanently in sorrow. It means carrying their influence forward in a way that brings life rather than pain.
One of the greatest fears in grief is the idea that joy may never return. In the early stages of loss, imagining happiness can feel impossible or even disloyal. But hope is not betrayal. It is resilient.
Rebuilding hope does not happen overnight. It comes in small moments. A genuine laugh. A sense of peace. A day that feels lighter than the one before. These moments are not signs that you have forgotten your loved one. They are signs that healing is taking place.
The Bible reminds us, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). Morning does not always come quickly, but it does come. God’s promise is not the absence of pain, but His presence through it.
For those who have faith, grief often raises spiritual questions. Why did this happen? Where is God in my pain? How do I reconcile loss with hope? These questions are not signs of weak faith. They are honest expressions of a searching heart.
Faith doesn’t necessarily remove grief, but it gives it context. Scripture speaks openly about loss, sorrow, and suffering, yet it also offers hope beyond this life. Jesus Himself wept at the death of Lazarus. Some believed He wept because He loved Lazarus; others thought it was because of the grief of Mary and Martha. Whatever the reason, His tears remind us that grief can feel contagious. Even with strong faith, we are not immune to the weight of loss.
Five Bible scriptures that speak directly to confronting grief include:
- Matthew 5:4 – “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
- John 14:1–3 – “Let not your heart be troubled… I go to prepare a place for you.”
- 2 Corinthians 1:3–4 – God is “the Father of mercies and God of all comfort.”
- Revelation 21:4 – “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”
- 1 Thessalonians 4:13 – We do not grieve “as others do who have no hope.”
These verses remind us that God acknowledges grief and promises comfort. Faith offers a perspective that extends beyond the present pain into eternal hope.
By the grace of God, grief never fully took hold of me. God showed me the difference between my mom’s life in her final days on earth and the life she now has with Him. Because of that, I couldn’t remain sad or weighed down by grief. Pray and ask God for peace and comfort as you navigate the loss of your loved one(s). If your loved one was a believer, ask God to show you, His perspective. Where they are and how they are now. Their joy may reshape the way you understand grief, even as you continue to miss them.
G. Edward Wyche