When Holidays Hurt

Grief has a way of sneaking into the most unexpected places. It lingers in the quiet, familiar moments—the empty seat at the dinner table, the smell of a favorite dish, or the silence where laughter used to echo. For my friend Sarah and her two children, Emily and Jack, last Thanksgiving wasn’t just a holiday; it was a stark reminder of what they’d lost.

Mark, Sarah’s husband, and their family’s holiday spark passed away unexpectedly in February. Mark wasn’t just the one who hung the Christmas lights or made his famous sweet potatoes—he was the heart of every holiday tradition. His booming laugh could fill a room, and his enthusiasm for all things festive bordered on the ridiculous in the best possible way. Without him, the holidays felt hollow, like a beautiful song missing its melody.

Last Thanksgiving was the first without him, and Sarah didn’t know how she’d get through it. But what unfolded was something she never expected: small acts of kindness and quiet moments of love that turned a season of grief into a season of resilience.

Last Thanksgiving: Finding Light in the Darkness

As November crept closer last year, Sarah admitted she wanted to skip the holidays altogether. The thought of unpacking decorations or pretending to feel festive felt impossible. “I didn’t even want to look at the calendar,” she told me. “It was like this ticking clock, counting down to the hardest day of my life.”

But as Thanksgiving approached, something remarkable began to happen. People in Sarah’s life—some close, some unexpected—started showing up in quiet, meaningful ways.

One evening, her neighbor Jill knocked on the door, holding a pumpkin pie. Jill wasn’t someone Sarah had ever been particularly close with, but her gesture spoke volumes. “Just thought you and the kids might like something sweet,” she said simply, no expectations or questions, just a warm offering at the right time.

Then there was Rachel, Sarah’s best friend from college, who texted out of the blue: “Let me take the kids for the weekend. You don’t have to decide anything—just let me know when.” When Sarah hesitated, Rachel showed up anyway. She whisked Emily and Jack off to a holiday market, leaving Sarah with her first quiet moment in months.

However, perhaps the most surprising gesture came from Mark’s former co-worker, Dave. He showed up with an envelope containing gift cards to Sarah’s favorite restaurants. “I know this won’t fix anything,” he said, “but maybe it’ll make the hard days a little easier.” For Sarah, it wasn’t about the gift cards—it was knowing that someone still remembered her, remembered Mark, and cared enough to act.

A Thanksgiving Reimagined

When Thanksgiving Day finally arrived, Sarah decided to lean into the help she’d been offered. Jill brought over a turkey, and Sarah, Emily, and Jack worked together to make Mark’s famous sweet potatoes. “It was his dish,” Sarah said, smiling through tears. “Making it felt like bringing a piece of him to the table.”

Rachel and her family joined them later, and what could have been a heavy, silent meal turned into something beautiful. They laughed, cried, and shared stories about Mark—his quirks, his kindness, and his habit of sneaking extra marshmallows into the sweet potatoes when he thought no one was looking.

“It wasn’t perfect,” Sarah admitted, “but it was ours. And that was enough.”

Looking Ahead: A New Thanksgiving Tradition

As Sarah and her kids approach their second Thanksgiving without Mark this year, things feel a little different. The decorations are coming out earlier, and the kids are taking charge of the meal planning. Emily has already insisted on making her dad’s sweet potatoes, and Jack is brainstorming ways to decorate the house “like Dad would’ve wanted.”

Sarah is also learning to lean on her community. She’s invited friends and neighbors over for a smaller, more intimate Thanksgiving. “Last year taught me that it’s okay to let people in,” she said. “It’s okay to let the love of others fill the spaces where the grief still lives.”

Helping Others Through the Holidays

Sarah’s story is a reminder that the holidays are never easy for those carrying the weight of loss. Grief doesn’t follow a timeline, and for many, the season of celebration can feel more like a season of survival.

But small acts of kindness—thoughtful gestures that say, “I see you, I care”—can make all the difference. Whether it’s dropping off a pie, offering to babysit, or simply showing up with no expectations, these moments remind people they’re not alone.

As we head into the holidays, think about who in your life might need that reminder. Maybe it’s a friend who lost a loved one, a neighbor going through a difficult season, or someone who simply feels overwhelmed. You don’t need permission to act; sometimes, the smallest gestures carry the greatest weight.

For Sarah and her kids, last Thanksgiving was a lesson in love and resilience. This year, as they honor Mark’s memory and embrace new traditions, they’ve found their own way to blend grief with gratitude—and that’s something we can all learn from.

Diana

Love is ALL there is