A Chair by the Fire: Holding Space for Grief at Christmas

The first notes of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas drift from the coffee shop speaker, and for a moment, it’s just a song. Then it hits—that familiar, hollow ache where a person used to be.

If that’s you this year, welcome. Come in. There’s a chair for you here, right by the fire.

While the world outside is wrapped in tinsel and twinkle lights, your heart might feel like it’s wrapped in lead. The forced merriment can feel like a betrayal of your sadness. So let’s agree, right now, to set aside the pressure. This Christmas, we’re doing things differently.

The Uninvited Guest: Grief at the Feast

Grief is the uninvited guest at every holiday party. It doesn’t care for your carefully planned menu or your perfectly decorated tree. It sits in the empty chair, lingers in the scent of a forgotten perfume, and echoes in the silence where a laugh should be.

And in 2025, as we navigate a world that often feels increasingly fractured, that grief can feel doubly heavy. We’re grieving not just people, but perhaps a sense of normalcy, peace, or a future we once imagined.

So, what do we do? We don’t throw the guest out. We acknowledge it. We even offer it a cup of tea.

Weaving the Melange: Your Grief & The Season's Joy

The magic isn't in choosing joy over grief, but in learning to let them coexist. It’s in the melange—the blending. Here are a few ways to weave your own tapestry this year:

1. The "And" Principle.
You can be sad and see the beauty in a fresh snowfall. You can miss someone terribly and laugh at a silly holiday movie. Your heart is big enough to hold both. Practice saying it: "I am feeling heartbroken this Christmas, and I am going to light a candle for them." One feeling does not cancel out the other.

2. Create a "Quiet Corner" Tradition.
Amidst the chaos, designate a quiet space. It could be a chair with a special blanket, a side table with their photo, and a candle. When the festivities become too much, you can retreat there. It’s a physical acknowledgment that someone is missing, and it’s okay to need a moment to feel that.

3. The Gift of Their Memory.
Instead of trying to ignore the pain of their absence, invite their memory to the party.

• Toast to Them: Raise a glass and share a favorite, funny story. Let the tears come if they do, but invite the laughter, too.

• Cook Their Dish: Did they make a specific stuffing or a terrible fruitcake? Make it. The kitchen will be filled with their essence.

• Donate in Their Name: This is a powerful way to transmute grief into kindness. A donation to a cause they loved is a gift that continues their story.

4. Rewrite the Rules.
You are not obligated to any tradition that magnifies your pain. If the big family dinner is too much, have a quiet, simple meal. If caroling feels wrong, spend the evening looking at old photos. Give yourself the profound gift of permission—permission to do Christmas your way.

A Whisper of Sympathy for the Grieving Heart

And if you’re reading this as someone who wants to support a grieving friend, your role is simple and profound. Don’t try to cheer them up. Don’t tell them “they’re in a better place.” Just be the person who says:

• "I miss them too."

• "It’s okay if you’re not okay."

• "Tell me about them."

• "I’ve reserved the quiet chair for you, whenever you need it."

The greatest gift you can offer is the space for their grief to simply be.

The Light in the Darkness

So, as this Christmas of 2025 unfolds, know this: the joy of the season is not a demand to be happy. It’s a reminder that even in the longest, coldest night, people have always gathered around lights—be it a star, a candle, or a string of bulbs on a tree—and found warmth in togetherness, even a togetherness that includes loss.

Your grief is not a shadow darkening the Christmas lights. It is proof of a love that was, and still is, so very real. And that kind of love is the most sacred Christmas decoration of all.

You are seen. You are held. However you choose to spend this day, may you find a moment of peace in the quiet melange of your heart.

With warmth and understanding,

FreezePIX