The holiday season holds both pain and purpose for me.
While many are celebrating, others are quietly navigating memories, grief, and emotions that rise without warning. I know this personally
Following my son’s murder in December 2020, my holidays were no longer the same. What used to be my favorite song; “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire”, the smell of homemade rolls in the oven, someone asking me to participate in a gift exchange have all been triggers. These moments pulled me back into moments of heartbreak I thought I had overcome.
Other triggers can be unexpected and overwhelming: the empty seat at the dinner table, hearing laughter and instantly remembering the sound of his voice when I would fall at the ice-skating rink, or seeing a son give his mom a long, intentional hug. These moments are real, human, and part of the story that I as a parent will carry forever.
Even though I lost my son, and how I deeply miss him, how I would do anything to rewind the tape of life and hold him just one more time. I’ve learned that even amid deep grief, glimmers still find their way to me. Glimmers such as the sound of his daughter laughing with the same carefree joy he once had. A warm hug from someone who remembers him without me having to say a word.
The smile of a young boy who carries some of his spirit. Quiet moments in prayer when I feel his presence and peace all over me. Acts of kindness big or small that remind me that love never stops flowing.
These glimmers do not completely erase my grief. They help me breathe through it, honor it, and move forward with hope. I’ve learned ways to handle the holidays.
Honor your feelings without apology.
Give yourself room to feel what you feel joy, sadness, gratitude, loneliness, or all of them at once.
Create a moment of remembrance.
Light a candle, display a photo, or speak your loved one’s name.
Set boundaries that protect your spirit.
It is okay to attend less events, take breaks, or decline invitations that feel emotionally draining.
Plan a daily glimmer.
Play a comforting song, quiet prayer/meditation, journaling, or a peaceful walk, dance, anything that centers you.
Release the pressure to say “I’m OK”
Your holiday does not have to match anyone else’s expectations. It is truly Ok to not be OK.
Lean on your tribe/community.
Call a friend, reach out to someone you trust, or spend time with people who offer comfort or who can relate.
Extend grace to yourself and others.
So many people are navigating silent grief during this season.
This season, I am giving myself permission to feel both the joy and the pain. I am embracing traditions that nourish me and gently setting aside the ones that no longer serve my healing. I am intentionally looking for glimmers on purpose, because even during this emotional season, I am reminded that hope is still present.
Portia Lockett is a contributing columnist for the Michigan Chronicle