Navigating Holiday Grief: Finding Gentleness in the Empty Seat

Navigating grief holiday can feel overwhelming. Traditions, gatherings, and celebrations that once brought joy may now highlight absence and loss. Finding gentle ways to honor your feelings, create small personal rituals, and take breaks can help you move through the season with care. The holidays are quickly approaching, and they have this way of magnifying everything. Our joy, our gratitude, and yes… our pain and loneliness, too.

Maybe this is your first holiday season without your person, or maybe it’s been years. But that empty chair at the table can still hit you like your loss is brand new. The dishes are passed, the laughter fills the room, stories are shared… and then your eyes land on that one space that should be filled, but isn’t.

That silence? It’s loud. That emptiness? It can feel all-consuming. That ache? It’s unrelenting at times.

If you’ve ever found yourself wondering why this still hurts so much, or feeling frustrated that you can’t just “enjoy it like everyone else seems to”, please know: you’re not broken. You’re not doing grief wrong. You’re having a very real human experience/

Your love for that person still lives so deeply inside you. Of course it still hurts!

The Reality of Loneliness at the Table

Loneliness while navigating holiday grief is one of the most common (but least talked about) parts of grief. People often dealing with grief through the holidays. We can imaging people missing a loved one might be struggling more around the holidays, but what do we really do about it?

I want to normalize that you can be surrounded by people, noise, and warmth, and still feel a deep sense of isolation. Because no matter how full the room is, there’s someone missing who should be there.

The dinner table can become this emotional crossroads. You want to honor your person, but also at times want to escape the heaviness of missing them. It’s smiling for everyone else, but also wanting to burst into tears. It’s the gratitude and grief coexisting in the same breath.

If that’s where you find yourself this year, please let this sink in: there is no right way to “do” the holidays. There’s no rulebook for how you should feel or what you should be able to handle.

You’re allowed to both love the season and dread it. And you are allowed to both show up and step away. You’re allowed to miss them so deeply that it still surprises you. Because this isn’t about “getting over it.” It’s about living with it.

4 Ways to Make This Experience More Gentle on Yourself

First and foremost (if you take away nothing else here), remember that you don’t need to force joy or pretend you’re okay. What you can do, though, is soften the edges of this experience a little. Here are a few gentle ways to hold yourself through it:

1. Create quiet acknowledgment before the gathering.

Before the dinner even starts, take a few moments just for you. Light a candle, say their name, breathe… whatever this experience needs to look like for you. This private pause grounds you and gives your grief the space it deserves before you step into the noise of togetherness, and can really help with emotional regulation. It’s a way of saying, “I see you, and I remember you… even if it feels like others around me might not.”

2. Redefine what presence means.

Their physical seat might be empty (or even figuratively), but that doesn’t mean their presence is gone. Maybe you honor them through a favorite dish, a toast, a photo, or even just a whispered “I miss you.” to yourself or aloud. Sometimes the most sacred rituals are the quiet ones no one else even notices, and isn’t performative.

3. Have an exit plan.

I know it can feel awkward to try and leave early (or you really just want to “Irish goodbye”, as they say). But if you’re attending a holiday gathering, give yourself permission to take breaks or make that exit if you need to. Whether that’s stepping outside, sitting in your car, or just going to the bathroom and breathing for a minute. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for taking care of your heart, and everything going on in your mind.

That being said, if the situation allows, sometimes it’s great to have a buddy, of sorts. Someone who’s perhaps going with you to the gathering, or could be available by phone or text, that you can lean on when and if you feel overwhelmed. Having at least one person in your corner, so to speak, is incredibly supportive and something I highly recommend as a Grief Coach.

4. Choose gentleness over performance.

Please know you don’t have to smile through it all or force cheerfulness. People around you will (hopefully) value your authenticity more than being performative or faking your way through it. Vulnerability is such a gift, truly. Make this the year you give yourself permission to be real. To let your emotions exist at the table. To honor your truth, not the version that makes others comfortable. Because sometimes, the most honest way to honor both your grief and your person is to simply show up as you are.

Finding Gentleness in the Empty Seat

If the dinner table feels lonelier this year, please remember (especially if this isn’t year one for you): that doesn’t mean you’re moving backward, or that your grief hitting you harder than usual is something to be alarmed about. It means your love is still very much alive, and your person (or people) who have passed still matter deeply to you. That stays with us far longer than that first year everyone seems to always be hung up on. Navigating holiday grief isn’t easy but possible.

Let that love fill the space where words or people can’t. Be gentle with yourself this season, cry if you need to, laugh if something makes you happy, and step away if you feel called to do so.

And please remember, too… you are not alone in this. A lot of people navigating holiday grief. Every person who’s lost someone has felt that same ache when they look at an empty chair. Your grief will always be unique to you, but there are universal aspects to grief that we can all empathize with. You are sitting at a much bigger table than you realize.