Because love doesn’t need a grand gesture—just presence with purpose.
The holidays have a way of magnifying everything. The twinkling lights seem brighter… and so does the ache. For someone grieving, this season can feel like walking through December wrapped in an emotional weighted blanket. You might not always know what to say or do, but here’s the truth: your presence — your thoughtful, gentle presence — matters more than anything.
And while I usually put together my annual Gift Guide for the Grieving Heart, this year time simply said, “Yeah…no.” But the heart behind it is still the same. So instead of a big catalog of links and recommendations, I wanted to share the spirit of the guide — the intention behind each gift, each gesture, each softness.
Here are meaningful, comforting ways to show up for a grieving friend during the holiday season, gifts or no gifts, wrapped in compassion and tied with grace.
Offer comfort, not solutions.
Grief isn’t a problem to fix; it’s a story to honor.
Instead of trying to make someone feel better, show up to help them feel held.
Say things like:
“I’m here with you.”
“You don’t have to pretend for me.”
“I’m not afraid of your tears or your silence.”
Sometimes the most powerful gift is letting someone grieve the way they need to.
Show up with small comforts — the gentle kind.
If you’ve followed my gift guides in years past, you know the classics:
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A mug for coffee or tea
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Fuzzy socks because cold feet are illegal during grief
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A soft blanket that feels like a hug
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A soothing candle for quiet moments
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A journal to catch the thoughts that spill over
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Anything nurturing, anything that whispers “you’re allowed to rest”
Those things aren’t “stuff.”
They’re soft places to land.
And grievers need that more than ever this time of year.
If you’re wanting meaningful options, you know I always create from the heart:
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My candles — are made for these tender December nights.
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My cards — the ones written for the brave, the broken, and the beautifully human — offer words when theirs won’t come.
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My ornaments — symbolic keepsakes for remembering, honoring, and carrying love through the season (and beyond).
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My new Year of Hope devotional — 365 days of gentle reflection, encouragement, and steadying faith for anyone who could use a little more light in the coming year.
There’s no pressure to gift anything. Just options for the friend who wants something meaningful, not just…another bath bomb gift set from aisle nine.
Make space for their person.
Say their name.
Share a memory.
Ask if they want a place at the table for them — figuratively or literally.
A grieving parent, spouse, sibling, or friend doesn’t want their loved one forgotten.
This can be the most healing gift of all.
Offer your time — even if only 10 minutes at a time.
Grief can make daily life feel impossible:
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Running errands
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Wrapping gifts
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Putting up (or taking down) decorations
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Cooking dinner
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Tackling the to-do list that never asked permission to grow
Offer real, tangible help.
Not “Let me know if you need anything.”
But: “I can stop by on Wednesday and help wrap gifts.”
Or: “I’m dropping off dinner tonight — no need to answer the door.”
Choose action over vague intention. It lands differently.
Understand that their joy may look different this year.
Some moments may sparkle.
Some may sting.
And some may feel strangely…both.
Remind them:
There is no “right way” to do December.
There is only their way.
Give grace generously.
Grief does not follow the calendar.
Tears don’t respect the holiday schedule.
Your friend may cancel plans, withdraw, or seem unlike themselves.
Grace is the gift that asks nothing in return.
Grace is what keeps love steady through the hard parts.
Grace is what the holidays were always meant to teach us.
And finally, remind them they’re not alone.
Sometimes a whispered, “You don’t have to carry this season by yourself,” is the most beautiful offering of all.
Whether you’re giving the soft comforts I’ve always loved — candles, cards, ornaments, journals, blankets — or simply giving presence, warmth, and a listening heart, your care has power. It softens the season. It steadies the grief. It wraps someone in hope they didn’t have to find alone.
And isn’t that what this season is truly about?