Ashley Hart: Handling grief during the holidays

In this musician’s house, on the day after Thanksgiving and not one second before, you can find me digging out my holiday vinyl record collection. Nothing brings me more joy than a good record.

I shamelessly admit that my seasonal wax has climbed to nearly 100 carefully curated albums to see me through Christmas and New Years. If you come to my listening room, I’m probably spinning a tried and true classic like Bing Crosby or Gene Autry, honoring the Queen of Christmas, Mariah Carey, or celebrating the majesty of rock and pageantry of roll of Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

It is my way to get ready for all the beautiful and happy sights, smells, tastes, and certainly, the sounds of the holidays. But I’m always humbly reminded, and in this case by a song, that maybe I’m not quite ready for all the “feels” that come with it.

It’s all red and gold

And Nat King Cole and tinsel on the tree

It’s all twinkle lights and snowy nights

And the kids still believe

And I know that they say, ‘Have a happy holiday’

And every year, I sincerely try

Oh, but Christmas, it always makes me cry.

Grief is a Long Play (LP) all on its own. It’s an intense collection of our losses, amplified by the expectations of the season. Many times, it is not the Hallmark movie soundtrack that we had in mind.

Instead, it is the sting of the melancholy chords when we remember the people we love who are no longer with us. Or the unresolved notes of “ambiguous losses”: like loving and caring for a person who is present “but emotionally or cognitively altered due to dementia, mental illness, or life-threatening illnesses,”; processing and living with estrangement from family or friends; or grieving relationships that have ended or have permanently changed (Pinatelli, 2025).

What does “merry” really mean anyway, when grief feels heavier than the winter coat you are wearing?

What we often forget in the hustle and bustle of these months is that it can be a magnified time of pain for our colleagues, our friends, and ourselves. A griever can feel withdrawn, isolated, deeply sad, lonely, and dark. They may need support more now than ever.

It’s the ones we miss, no one to kiss

Under the mistletoe

Another year gone by, just one more that I couldn’t make it home

And I know that they say, ‘Have a happy holiday’

And every year, I swear I sincerely try

Oh, but Christmas, it always makes me cry

My brother’s death was one of the most profound and greatest losses of my life. I have spent 23 years since his passing doing my best to find joy, purpose, and light in 23 holiday seasons, despite his absence.

He was the first to help with decorating the tree. We had a wall calendar from the 1980s counting down the days to Christmas, and we’d fight over who had the honor of moving the little stuffed toy mouse to the next day on the calendar during December. Sometimes those fights were big, sorry mom!

Today, I put up trees in every room of my house, play the music loud and add a ridiculous amount of new holiday albums (that I don’t really need) to the collection.

I try to create beautiful spaces for people to enjoy at my home or in the office—in that I find my brother’s decorating spirit alive and well. And I dig out that old calendar and hang it on my wall, just so I can recall my brother’s devilishly delightful smile when he got to it first in the morning before we went to school.

It doesn’t matter to me if people understand that this is my way of coping or not. They don’t have to understand. These things feel right to me, bring me peace, and help me through these challenging times. There is no one way to do grief, and sometimes, it’s trial and error, until you find what works best for you.

Seems like everybody else is havin’ fun

I wonder if I’m the only one

Whose broken heart still has broken parts

Just wrapped up in pretty paper

And it’s always sad seeing mom and dad getting a little grayer

If the holidays are hard for you, it does not mean you are not joyful or are somehow broken. It does not mean that you will never find the ability to belly laugh again. It means you might consider some sage advice and love from a fellow griever here who also has a heavy heart during this time of year. Take what resonates with you and leave the rest.

Let go of expectations! You can cancel. Yes, you really can do that, but my hope is you don’t cancel the holidays forever.

I didn’t do holidays that first year of my loss. It is not how I operate now, but it was what I needed to do then, and it was okay. You can decline invitations; no is a complete sentence, you don’t have to offer an explanation.

To the supporters out there, extend those welcoming and well-intended invites, a griever may genuinely take you up on it and be grateful for the connection. However, be understanding if the answer is no or the griever changes their mind at the last minute. And, keep checking in.

People typically don’t reach out to you “if they need anything,” so instead, find ways to show up and help a griever. Sometimes, the griever doesn’t know where to start to ask for what they need.

You can change your mind or limit your engagement with activities during the holidays. Boundaries are not negative concepts. As grief expert David Kessler would say, have Plan A and Plan B. Go to the holiday event if it feels right, but if you find yourself overwhelmed, having a grief burst, or needing to take a step back, have an exit strategy prepared, and then move to Plan B.

You can redefine the season too. Carry on old traditions if those feel safe and comforting for you. My brother loved fettucine alfredo because he learned to make it once upon a time in home economics class where all the girls fell in love with him. I have holiday fettucine every year because it is an old tradition that reminds me of him.

Not all traditions, however, make it into your new life after losing a loved one or processing ambiguous losses. Give yourself permission to create new traditions; it opens the possibility of healing and transformation in grief. If family is no longer able to travel to you, or you can’t celebrate in the same way, figure out ways that you can still feel together.

Holidays don’t have to be on the exact day! Change it up, travel, find a new pathway from a different perspective.

Pay attention to grieving children if they are in your life this season. They are often forgotten mourners. Talk to them directly about their needs, allow them to help you define your limits and your plans. If you are caretaking for children or for aging loved ones, carve out some time for yourself to breathe by doing something that brings you solace. You deserve self-care and rest too as you extend your precious energy to aid others.

Honor your loved ones by saying their names out loud this season. Their stories live on because we can still share our memories of them. Hold on to those memories tight, you will never know when you need them most.

My brother Justin had zero interest in negotiating with Santa to ask for what he wanted for Christmas, instead, he’d always ask for Mrs. Claus—he knew she held the real power anyway! It’s one of my favorite memories of him that always makes me laugh even when I feel like crying.

And they always say, ‘Have a happy holiday’

And every year, I sincerely try

Oh, but Christmas, it always makes me cry*

If you are reading this and the Kacey Musgraves’ lyrics sprinkled throughout stop you in your tracks because the holiday season makes you cry, step inside my listening room.

I hear you and so do my colleagues at the Judges and Lawyers Assistance Program, or JLAP. We are here to support you through your grief journey during the holiday season and beyond.

Give us a call to talk individually, or ask us about one of our support groups that could help you find connection and community to other grieving hearts. If you are grieving, I’m sending you love, light, and a grief song this season. Take your journey one step at a time in your own time, you are a beautiful survivor song ready to be written.

Credit: “Christmas Makes Me Cry” (Songwriters: Brandy Clark, Kacey Musgraves, Shane McAnally)•

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Ashley E. Hart, JD, LSW, is the executive director at JLAP and a certified grief educator. Opinions expressed are those of the author.