How Loss Has Changed the Way I Do the Holidays…in a good way!

Holding Joy and Grief During the Holidays

**Picture above is of our boys sharing their letters to Santa with Santa after their Polar Express ride this year.

The holidays and I have a complicated relationship.

There is joy.
And there is a struggle.

Both tend to show up louder this time of year.

Lets dig in…

When Grief Sneaks In

The holidays have a way of both amplifying absence AND joy. For me, grief often surfaces around the loss of my mom and dad, along with other loved ones I miss deeply. It creeps in quietly, then all at once.

I feel it most when I’m watching my little boys experience the magic of the season- the wonder, the excitement, the way their eyes light up over the most minor things. It’s awesome. It brings me joy. And if I’m honest, it’s also bittersweet. I selfishly wish my parents were here to witness it. To experience that joy through the boys’ eyes. To be part of these moments.

But they’re not, at least not physically. Yet I know and believe they are spiritually.

So instead of resisting that ache, I’ve learned to sit with it. I double down on presence. I choose to fully experience the holidays with my boys—through their eyes, my husband’s, and my own. I let joy and grief coexist because pretending one cancels out the other doesn’t work for me, and I am guessing it doesn’t work for you either if you can relate.

Both are real.

More, More, More

There’s another side of the holidays that challenges me just as well: consumerism.

More stuff.
More parties.
More expectations.
More overconsumption.

I notice how easily celebration turns into obligation—parties people attend because they feel they should, drinking more than they want, buying more than they need, accumulating things when most of us already have plenty.

I have been there- feeling the obligation to attend, over-consuming…and it doesn’t feel good.

I know many people who are still deeply miserable, endlessly chasing the illusion of “more.”

What I truly crave during this season isn’t more—it’s something deeper.

It’s connection.
It’s meaning.
It’s giving back.

Yet, how do you do that in the midst of the beautiful-ish chaos of this season? Here is what worked for me- leaning into the precious present- making memories versus presents AND also giving back.

Where the need to give back stemmed from for me:

** Picture of Dad in 2012.

My late father, who served as a diocesan Catholic priest, used to say something that has stayed with me, especially during the holidays:

“One way to keep someone alive after they’re gone is to take on a character trait you admired in them and live it.”

That idea sat with me this year.

Some of my fondest holiday memories weren’t about gifts. They were about giving anonymously—Secret Santas, dropping off treats to families without signing our names, delivering food or presents to families in need on Thanksgiving or Christmas Eve.

I also loved going with my dad to hospitals and people’s homes, sitting with them, listening, and being present. It always felt like we received more than we gave.

This year, I decided it was time for my young family and I to bring that spirit back—not just in memory, but in action.

Best decision ever…for me!

Here is what we did…

Our New Family Tradition:

I signed my family up (really volun-told them) for Toys for Tots, led by the Marine Corps Reserve here in Durango. However, Toys for Tots is a national program.

And it was one of the most meaningful experiences of our holiday season.

My 8-year-old manned the hot chocolate station, proudly handing out the most decadent cups to everyone who came through.

My 5-year-old quietly passed out coloring books and little bags filled with crayons, pins, and small trinkets—no announcement, no fanfare, just gentle generosity. He was quite curious of the toys in the back and yet learned to respect boundaries. My husband and I took parents into the back to shop—choosing stocking stuffers, presents, and essentials for their children. Most of the families were single moms, caring for anywhere from one to seven kids.

Watching them relax for a moment.
Seeing them smile.
Giving them space to feel supported.

It filled my cup in ways that are hard to put into words.

Here is the Message I Hope Sticks

My boys are having a very different holiday experience than many. They may not remember every detail, but they know this:

This is something we do.
We give back.
We don’t just consume.
We notice others.

And in my eyes, that’s how we keep my dad and mom – my boys’ Grandpa and Grandma – alive as well as find joy in giving back to others without expecting anything in return.

The holidays don’t have to be perfect. They don’t have to be loud. They don’t have to be full.

They can be honest.
They can hold grief AND joy at the same time.

I will leave you with this…

In a season that pushes us toward more, let’s choose depth, service, and the kind of joy that actually lasts.

Merry Christmas,

Love, Dr. T

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