Finding the Both/And During the Holidays

Holidays can be difficult after losing someone you love. When that loss happens during the holiday season, the mix of emotions can feel complicated. The world moves on with its lights, music, and gatherings, but for many of us, the season also brings a quiet awareness of who isn't there.

Nineteen years ago this month, my mom and dad died just two weeks apart. My dad went first after a long journey with Alzheimer's, and shortly after, my mom followed due to liver disease. I remember sitting with my arm around her frail shoulders at his service, realizing deep down that I'd soon return for hers. I was grieving one parent while already anticipating the loss of the other.

For the last three months of her life, my mom would often ask, "Is it Thanksgiving yet?" I'd smile and say, "Not yet, but it'll be here soon." I didn't realize we would lay her to rest the day before Thanksgiving. I'll never forget waking up that morning and whispering through tears, "Mom, it's Thanksgiving."

That year, my brothers, sister, and I still gathered for Thanksgiving lunch—my dad's straw hat placed at the center of the table. We cooked their favorite dishes. We laughed at old stories and cried at quiet moments. I looked around the table, seeing my family together and feeling the fullness of both grief and gratitude. I knew my parents were together, but I wasn't mourning where they were—I was mourning where they weren't.

This will be my nineteenth Thanksgiving without them. The sharp edges of grief have softened, but the memories return as vividly as ever. I've come to realize my parents were Thanksgiving—the warmth, the laughter, the way they made everyone feel welcome. The holiday has never been the same, yet it still holds meaning. Christmas brings that same delicate balance—joy for the love around me and longing for those who once filled the room.

Grief, I've learned, is not about choosing between sadness and joy—it's learning how they can coexist. It's not either/or—it's both/and.

Both missing them deeply and being thankful for every memory.
Both crying and laughing at the same story.
Both longing for the past and cherishing the present.
Both grieving and growing.

If you're grieving this holiday season, I see you. I understand. You don't have to choose one feeling over another. You can love and miss those who are gone and still find joy with those who remain. You can honor the past while still making room for new memories.

My hope for you is that this holiday season, you find your both/and—that gentle place where gratitude and grief can sit at the same table, where love stretches wide enough to hold them both.