It’s hard enough to deal with grief over the holidays without worrying about being a burden to others during gatherings. Who has the energy to “fake it” at a holiday party when you’re grieving? But also, who wants us at a party when we don’t feel like ourselves?
My dad died during the pandemic in October of 2020. He had been ill for a while, and while we knew his death was coming, we hoped it would be years away. Our wishes weren’t granted. Just over a month after his death, my brother’s dad also passed away. In a short window right before the holidays, I lost two men who had a profound impact on my life.
I didn’t know how to handle myself or how to accept help from anyone. I threw myself into solo activities to stay busy and to avoid the dreaded question: “How are you feeling?” I didn’t want to drag anyone down while I was drowning or force them to sit with me in my despair. So I said no to invites, and the holidays came and went.
Being brave during New Year’s
Then came a New Year’s gathering invite. I told myself the new year is often a time of hope, change, and gathering to look ahead. Also, I didn’t care. I had no interest in celebrating.
I remember thinking, “What’s there to celebrate anyway? Why bother? I’m just going to sit there like a lump, and people will have more fun without me.” It felt easier for everyone if I stayed home.
Then I got a text.
My best friend invited me to a long-standing New Year’s celebration, a tradition that began years earlier with parties my dad threw when we were teenagers. Although it had evolved over time, being together on that night started with a dad who wanted to know his daughter was somewhere safe.
I had reservations. How would people react to me? Would I make it through the night? Would my grief make others uncomfortable? I texted back, “idk if I can make it. It’s too much.” She replied immediately: “No. You’re going to this party. You need to leave your house.” She wasn’t taking no for an answer. So on New Year’s Eve, I caved. I put on cozy pajamas and waited for her to pick me up. It was my first real outing, and I was nervous.
A New Year’s surprise
When I arrived, I was greeted by people who cared enough to make sure I was comfortable. They understood that the important thing wasn’t that I talked, played games, or even ate. It was simply that I showed up. As it turned out, I did talk. I joined in debates we’ve been having for years. I played games. I ate. All the things that had felt monumental beforehand became easier once I was there, surrounded by people who cared. There were even glimmers of my former self, moments when I felt like I came back to myself.
What I didn’t know beforehand was that my friends understood I was running on about 10% battery. They knew I wasn’t myself and wanted to help me find my way back. They allowed me to show up exactly as I was and accepted me without expectations.
Sometimes we’re lucky enough to be met with that kind of care. Other times, putting ourselves out there doesn’t go smoothly, or we realize we need more support than expected. Even then, trying can still matter. Hiding away and isolating ourselves isn’t something we can do forever. It isn’t healthy. Over time, many of us find our rhythm again and the people who can meet us where we are.
And if what you need most is quiet time under blankets and no party at all, that’s okay too. As grievers, and as people who love grievers, what matters most is having permission to choose what feels possible in the moment.
Amy Braley is a Grief Specialist at Experience Camps in Pennsylvania. She enjoys making dead dad jokes, channeling her feelings into baked goods and, embracing the weird. Amy is a Certified Therapeutic Recreation Specialist, and, a Marriage and Family Therapy Intern. She works at Nurturing Connections Marriage and Family Therapy. Use the following links to connect with her: www.psychologytoday.com/profile/1505033, www.ncmft.com/our-team/amy-braley, Instagram @TheCryingClub_MFT or @NCMFT.
