Keeping Them Close: Christmas Traditions When Your Heart Is Grieving

Christmas is coming next week, and if you’re anything like me, the closer it gets, the heavier your heart feels. This season that used to be filled with excitement, planning, and family traditions now carries a quiet ache — because someone we love isn’t here to celebrate with us.

The world keeps moving with bright lights, music, and cheer, but for grieving moms, Christmas can feel like walking through a season that no longer fits. And yet, in the middle of the hurt, I’ve learned something important: our children may not be physically here, but we can still make space for them in our day, our traditions, and our hearts.

For me, weaving my daughter into Christmas is a way of saying, You still matter. You are still part of us. And you will always be loved.

One of the ways I do that is through the traditions she created — especially the ones she started with her own little boy. There’s something sacred about carrying on the things she loved, watching pieces of her live on in him. It’s a reminder that her story didn’t end; it continues through the people she cherished most.

Around our home and on our tree, there are ornaments that belong to her — some she made, some we picked out together, and some I’ve added in her honor. They shine softly in the lights, tiny reflections of her life woven right into the heart of our Christmas. Hanging them each year brings tears, yes… but also comfort. They tell the world she was here. She is still here.

We also make some of her favorite foods. Recipes she loved, snacks she’d ask for, dishes she always looked forward to. Cooking them feels like sharing a meal with her, like inviting her to the table in the only way I can now. Those smells, those tastes, those memories — they’re pieces of her presence I can still hold onto.

And every year, we still hang her stocking. It’s one of the simplest yet most powerful traditions we keep. Seeing it with the other stockings reminds me that she is still part of our family, still part of our celebration. Her stocking doesn’t represent what’s missing — it represents the love that will always remain.

And Mama, I want you to know this: there is nothing wrong with needing your child to be part of your Christmas.
It doesn’t mean you’re stuck. It doesn’t mean you’re going backwards. It means you’re a mother. And mothers don’t stop loving their children because they are no longer here in the way we wish they were.

If you are struggling with the days ahead, please hear my heart — you’re not alone. This season is beautiful, but it’s also deeply painful when grief sits at your table. But you have every right to honor your child in the ways that feel right to you.

Keep their traditions.
Tell their stories.
Hang their ornaments.
Make their favorite recipes.
Hang their stocking.
Let their love fill the places where the silence tries to settle.

My prayer for you this Christmas is that in the middle of the tears, you will also feel a gentle warmth — the kind that whispers, They are near. Their love remains. And one day, this separation will end.

Until then, we carry them in every twinkling light, every shared memory, every tradition that keeps their heart close to ours.

You are seen.
You are held.
And you are walking this season with a community of mothers who understand every beat of your hurting heart.