I walked into Lowe’s recently and was immediately greeted by Christmas.

Decorations were going up everywhere, and normally, that would have made me smile. I’ve always loved Christmas. I love the lights, the music, the decorations, the traditions, and most of all, what the season represents – the birth of Jesus and the hope we have because He came.

But this time, my first instinct was to turn around and walk back out.

I wasn’t expecting that reaction. Christmas is still a few months away, but suddenly all those decorations brought back memories I’m not quite ready to face.

This will be my first Christmas without my dad.

And because of what happened last Christmas and in the weeks that followed, I’m beginning to realize that navigating the holidays after loss may be harder than I expected.

When Christmas Is Connected to the Loss

Dad got sick the day after Christmas.

At first, we thought it was something relatively minor. He was eventually hospitalized with the flu and pneumonia but came home on New Year’s Eve with oxygen. He seemed to be getting better, and I think we all believed we had made it through the worst of it.

We hadn’t.

A little more than two weeks later, he was back in the hospital. Things changed incredibly quickly. Within days, my sisters and I were faced with the decision none of us wanted to make – honoring Dad’s wishes and allowing him to go rather than keeping him alive on life support when there was no hope of recovery.

So when I saw those Christmas decorations at Lowe’s, I didn’t just see Christmas trees and lights.

For a moment, I saw everything that happened last year.

And I wanted to get away from it.

Woman by a Christmas tree holding an ornament while reflecting on faith, hope, and grief, with a dog resting beside her and a memorial photo nearby.Am I Supposed to Be Joyful?

I’ve found myself wondering what I’m supposed to do with those feelings.

Christmas is supposed to be joyful. As a Christian, I know what we celebrate. I know that Jesus came into this world to bring us hope and salvation.

But what happens when your heart is grieving during a season that’s supposed to be filled with joy?

I think sometimes we put unnecessary pressure on ourselves. We tell ourselves that because we trust God, we shouldn’t feel sad. We think we should be stronger by now or that enough time has passed that certain things shouldn’t hurt quite so much.

But grief doesn’t follow a calendar.

And faith doesn’t mean pretending something doesn’t hurt.

“There is a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.” – Ecclesiastes 3:4

Maybe this Christmas isn’t about forcing myself to feel the way I used to feel.

Maybe it’s about allowing God to meet me where I am.

God Is With Us in the Grief

One of the names given to Jesus is Emmanuel – God with us.

“The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel (which means ‘God with us’).” – Matthew 1:23

I’ve read that verse countless times at Christmas. But this year, those words may mean something different.

God with us.

God with me when I see a Christmas decoration and unexpectedly want to cry.

God with me when a song brings back a memory.

God with me when I miss Dad sitting beside me.

God with me when I don’t know what Christmas will look like this year.

Maybe that’s something I need to remember as the holidays get closer. God isn’t asking me to leave my grief outside before I come to Him. He isn’t waiting for me to become cheerful enough to celebrate Christmas properly.

He comes into the grief with me.

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18

Giving Myself Permission to Do Christmas Differently

I’m also realizing that this Christmas doesn’t have to look like every Christmas that came before it.

I don’t even know yet exactly where I’ll spend it or what I’ll do. There are still questions I’m trying to work through. And perhaps I don’t need to have all those answers right now.

Maybe part of navigating the holidays after losing someone is giving ourselves permission to take them one day at a time.

That might mean:

  • Keeping the traditions that bring comfort while letting go of the ones that feel like too much this year.
  • Finding a special way to remember the person we lost instead of trying not to think about them.
  • Stepping away for a little while when the emotions become overwhelming.
  • Accepting invitations when we need company and admitting when we don’t want to be alone.
  • Allowing ourselves to laugh and enjoy something without feeling guilty about it.
  • Talking honestly to God when sadness, anger, loneliness, or even dread replaces the joy we think we’re supposed to feel.

There isn’t one right way to grieve through the holidays.

Maybe we simply need to give ourselves – and each other – a little grace.

Enjoying Christmas Doesn’t Mean Forgetting

I think this may be one of the things I need God to help me understand most.

If I eventually enjoy Christmas again, it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten Dad.

If I laugh, it doesn’t mean I don’t miss him.

If I decorate a tree, listen to Christmas music, or enjoy time with my family, I’m not leaving him behind.

Love doesn’t disappear because life continues.

That’s something I’ve been learning throughout this year. Moving forward doesn’t erase the life we shared or the memories we made. Dad will always be part of my story.

Maybe Christmas can eventually hold both things – the sadness of missing him and the gratitude of having had him in my life.

I Don’t Have to Put the Grief Away

I don’t think God is asking me to put my grief behind me before Christmas arrives.

Maybe He’s asking me to bring it with me.

The Christmas story isn’t really a story about everything being comfortable and perfect anyway. Jesus entered a broken world filled with uncertainty, fear, hardship, and pain.

And He came to bring hope into that brokenness.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” – John 1:5

I may not know how I’ll feel when December arrives. There may be moments when memories of last Christmas come rushing back. There will probably be tears. There may also be laughter, peace, and moments when Christmas feels familiar again.

And perhaps I don’t have to choose between them.

I can miss my dad and still celebrate the birth of Jesus.

I can grieve and still have hope.

I can hurt and still trust God.

And when the memories become too much, I can remind myself that Emmanuel means God is with me – even here.

Woman in a Christmas store holding an ornament and reflecting on Matthew 1:23, “Immanuel, God with us,” while grieving during the holidays.A Scripture Reflection

This Christmas, I keep coming back to the simple promise found in Matthew 1:23:

“They will call him Immanuel (which means ‘God with us’).”

Maybe those three words are enough for this season.

God with us.

Not only in our celebrations, but in our sadness.

Not only around tables filled with family, but in the empty places where someone we love used to sit.

Not only when Christmas feels joyful, but when it hurts.

I don’t know yet what this Christmas will look like for me. I’m learning that I don’t have to.

For now, I can take it one day at a time, hold onto the memories I’m grateful for, give myself permission to grieve when I need to, and trust that the same God who has carried me through this year will carry me through the holidays too.

 

If this reflection on navigating the holidays after loss spoke to you, I invite you to read more of my writings at LoriDomingo.com, where I share encouragement about faith, grief, healing, and finding God in the difficult seasons of life.

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Wherever you are in your own journey, my hope is that these writings remind you that you do not have to hide your grief from God. He meets us in the joy, the sorrow, the memories, and the empty places too.

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