Holiday Grief & Child Loss: Holding Memory and Compassion in a Season of Ache
The holidays arrive with lights in windows, familiar songs, and gatherings meant to signal joy. For many parents grieving a child, however, this season carries a very different rhythm—one shaped by absence, ache, and quiet remembering.
Whether your child died before birth, in childhood, or as an adult, the grief does not disappear. During the holidays, it often grows louder.
For me, this season holds a particular weight. My mother’s birthday falls in December, just weeks before the anniversary of her and my son’s deaths. They both died in the same tragic event shortly after Christmas. Since then, this time of year has carried a deeper ache. Their absence is woven into the season, even as I still make room for the meaning and moments of beauty that can exist alongside grief.
This year, I planned to honor my mother’s birthday by lighting a candle and journaling about her love of Christmas. Instead, I spent the day managing a furnace failure across the country, trying to keep pipes from freezing. By nightfall, I was exhausted—the candle unlit, the journal untouched.
Grief rarely gets the space it deserves, especially as time passes.
In my own experience of loss, I’ve noticed how quickly our culture turns away from grief once the immediacy fades. Parents often long for their child’s name to be spoken, for their loss to be remembered, yet silence frequently replaces acknowledgment—especially years later.
Even now, when I quietly hold space for my mother, I’m struck by that silence. It has been years since her death, and few people think to ask how I’m doing. The ongoing ache becomes something I carry largely alone.
That loneliness is part of what makes grief during the holidays so difficult—not because grief is new, but because it is no longer visible to others.
There Is No Timeline for Grief
Grief does not expire. It changes, deepens, and reshapes us, but it does not disappear.
Whether your loss is recent or decades old, whether your child was named or never had the chance to be, your grief is real. The holidays often amplify this truth through disrupted traditions, an empty place at the table, or the ache of what never came to be.
These experiences are not signs of weakness or failure to “move on.” They are signs of enduring love.
When Life Gets in the Way
If the holidays feel overwhelming—filled with errands, emergencies, or emotional exhaustion—you are not doing it wrong.
It is okay if you meant to light a candle and didn’t.
It is okay if grief feels buried beneath daily responsibilities.
It is okay to feel both full and empty in the same moment.
Grief often requires intention. Because the world does not slow down for it, we must sometimes create space ourselves. That might mean ten minutes of quiet, declining an invitation, or allowing tears to fall without explanation.
A Gentle Invitation
If you are grieving a child this season—whether this is your first holiday or one of many—I want you to know that you are not alone in this experience.
The earliest days of grief can often feel unbearable. Over time, it is often the long silence of the years that feels most painful, when it seems the world has moved on while your heart still aches.
You may worry that moving forward means leaving your child behind. It does not. Healing is not about forgetting or “getting over” loss. It is about learning how to carry love and sorrow together.
If you are longing for support that honors both your grief and your capacity to heal, grief counseling can offer a compassionate space to process your loss at your own pace. I would be honored to walk alongside you. You are welcome to reach out to schedule a free consultation.
With kindness and compassion,
Jacquelyn
Space for Grief — Renton, WA
In-person & online therapy across Washington
