When Grief Meets Tinsel: Finding Joy (and Laughing Anyway)

This will be my last regular grief related blog of the season—and honestly, it feels right to end on a lighter note. Not because grief packs up neatly for the holidays (spoiler: it doesn’t), but because after enough years, enough tears, and enough living…something else starts to show up alongside it. (Don't worry though...I have my end of the year blog next week...my virtual holiday card to you). 

Hope.
Joy.
And occasionally, laughter so inappropriate you look around to see if heaven just side-eyed you.

Here’s the truth I wish someone had told me in those early years:
You can survive Christmas after loss.
And one day—yes, really—you might even enjoy it again.

The Holidays, Grief Edition (Some Assembly Required)

Let’s start with the obvious. Christmas grief is…special.

It’s crying in the Target ornament aisle because a song came on.
It’s buying one less stocking and pretending you didn’t notice (you noticed).
It’s loving the lights and hating the silence at the same time.

And it’s also:

• Laughing when the tree falls over because honestly, what else can go wrong?

• Forgetting where you hid the gifts and calling it a “surprise system.”

• Realizing you’ve re-gifted the same candle three years in a row. (If this was you—no judgment. The candle understands.)

Grief doesn’t cancel Christmas. It just changes how it shows up.

The Unexpected Plot Twist: Joy Sneaks In

Here’s where I might gently blow your mind:
After time—sometimes lots of it—you don’t only survive the holidays.
You start to feel them again.

Not the same way. Never the same way.
But differently and sometimes beautifully.

You find yourself laughing—then pausing—then laughing again.
You catch a moment where your heart feels light, and you don’t immediately apologize for it.

That’s not betrayal.
That’s healing.

Joy doesn’t mean you loved them less.
It means love expanded and learned how to breathe again.

Yes, You’re Allowed to Be Happy (Even Now)

I want you to hear this clearly:
You are allowed to have a happy holiday.

Even if your grief still sits at the table.
Even if someone is missing.
Even if part of you always will.

There is no grief rulebook that says:
❌ “No smiling after loss”
❌ “No laughter allowed after tragedy”
❌ “No joy without guilt”

That rulebook? Burn it. Safely. After Christmas. With supervision.

And In the End…The Reason Still Remains

When all the noise fades—when the wrapping paper is gone and the decorations go back into bins labeled miscellaneous chaos—we’re left with the heart of it all.

Hope.
Love.
Light that came into a dark world and stayed.

The reason for the season isn’t perfection.
It’s presence.

It’s grace that meets us exactly where we are—messy, missing people, and still choosing to show up.

And if this year all you can do is sit quietly with the lights on and your heart half-open?

That counts.
That matters.
That’s enough.

A Gentle Blessing for the Holidays

May you laugh without guilt.
May you cry without apology.
May you feel moments of peace sneak in when you least expect them.
And may you know—deep in your bones—that joy and grief can coexist.

Both belong here.
So do you.

Merry Christmas, my friend.
And here’s to a new year—still carrying love, still choosing hope, and maybe even laughing at the tangled lights along the way. 💛