real life

'Last year, my brother Tim died 6 weeks before Christmas. The empty chair at the table is heartbreaking.'

Ahh, the “festive season.” Happy families sharing their Santa photos on Instagram. Cousins in matching pjs unwrapping their presents under the tree. Grandparents doting over their grandkids. Loving uncles pushing their niece and nephew on the swing...

These love-filled scenes may seem harmless to you and a normal part of Christmas. But if you’re grieving the death of a loved one, it can be enough to send us mourners into a meltdown. Whether it’s your first Christmas or your 31st Christmas without your person, the holiday season can serve as a painful reminder of what should be and what isn’t. Although we have to live with our grief 365 days a year for the rest of our lives, there’s nothing more heartbreaking than the empty chair at the table and you can feel weirdly guilty for trying to push on through Christmas Day like it’s business as usual.

Watch: A couple shares what grief during the holidays feels like. Story continues after video.

Last year, Christmas fell just six weeks after the death of my brother Tim. A few days out from the big day, I can vividly remember walking through the weekend markets to get to my hairdresser. Christmas carols were blasting at full volume and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face. I had to duck away to the closest alleyway for an express sobbing session. It was such a jarring disconnect — here I was walking around with a broken heart, which will never be mended, all the while Jingle Bells was playing. I felt furious at the world for continuing to be holly and jolly when I felt anything but. Couldn’t we just cancel Christmas altogether?

Me and my daughter with Tim. Image: Supplied.

As I head into my second Christmas without my brother, I’m putting no expectations whatsoever on the day. For me, it’s simply about putting one foot in front of the other. I also find New Year’s Eve incredibly difficult. I hate the thought of time moving on and further and further away from when Tim was last alive. I’ve somehow made it through one whole year without him but I am terrified of welcoming in yet another year with him gone… and then another and another. They say bargaining is a huge part of grief and in my mind, if I can stop the clock ticking over to 2023, then maybe somehow I can get him back. It makes absolutely no sense, I know, but not much about grief and death does, really.

So if you’re missing someone these holidays, despite it feeling beyond isolating — remember you’re not alone. And while there’s no denying how unbelievably shithouse this time of year is for the bereaved community, here are eight ways to try to help you get through to the other side.

1. It's okay to say no and put firm boundaries in place.

Knowing your limits and what you’re capable of committing to can make a world of difference. It’s OK to say no to going to your aunt’s Christmas Day lunch with 30 extended family members if you’re not feeling up for it. Just because it’s an annual tradition, doesn’t mean you have to attend.

Remember that friends and family often really want to help us but don’t know how. It might feel hard at first but being open and honest with exactly what you need from your support network means they can better understand how best to protect and show up for you.

2. If you have little kids in your family, throw all the attention on them.

This approach is what got me and my family through our first Christmas without Tim. Our new rule was no presents for the adults, only kids, and we made the whole day about them. Kids really are the best medicine and watching them get swept up in the magic of the day reassured me that there will always be pockets of joy in amongst the extreme sadness of not having my brother there. I know Tim would want his little nieces to have the most amazing day, so that’s what we do to honour him.

Image: Supplied.

3. Create new traditions to remember them.

If you have the strength, (and yes, I’m here to tell you it’s really hard… but I’d rather do something than nothing) finding ways to honour your loved one can also be a poignant way to make sure they’re still part of the day. Whether it’s lighting a candle, toasting them before lunch, buying them a present, putting a special decoration on the Christmas tree, watching their favourite Christmas movie (Tim’s were Die Hard and Home Alone), or blasting out their favourite festive banger — whatever feels right for you and your family, why not give it a try?

4. You don't need to force the festive joy. Take it as it comes.

Don’t put pressure on yourself to be “on” and your best bubbly self for friends and family. Putting on a façade to please others can be bloody exhausting. If you want to embrace your inner grief-y grinch, go for it. My mantra for this time of year? I just have to survive, not thrive.

5. Do a social media spring clean or go off-grid.

Social media can be extremely triggering. Don’t be afraid to hit unfollow or mute if certain accounts or people are making you feel a bit yucky. Putting your phone on aeroplane mode or turning it off for the periods you know will be hard are easy ways to safeguard your mental health.

6. Want to escape Christmas and run away? Go for it.

If it’s all just too much and you want to completely flip the script and do something totally different, then why the hell can’t you? I have a fantasy about escaping the whole day one year and just spending the day with my daughters and my partner far, far away in a new country that has no memories. A blank slate so we can create an entirely new chapter. Maybe we’ll do a white Christmas one year...

7. Allow yourself time and space to feel grief-y.

While everyone grieves differently, I’m a firm believer in honouring the grief bombs whenever they may come a knockin’. Last year, I had a massively cathartic grief session on Boxing Day. I didn’t plan to lean full tilt into the sadness but I could feel it bubbling up to the surface, so I ducked away from my family and just let it all out. Man, did I feel better after.

8. Talk it out.

The grief come down after the festive season can be real. If your grief is feeling heavy and hard after the holidays, why not speak to an understanding ear? Whether that’s a psychologist, a grief counsellor or even joining a grief support group online, unpacking your emotions and talking to others who can empathise with what you’re going through is so important.

Listen on this episode of No filter where Mia Freedman speak with Petrea King, one of the most respected grief counselors in the country. Here's her advice on how to navigate Christmas when you're not feeling joyful.


Bella Brennan is a Sydney-based writer and editor who is on a mission to normalise conversations around grief. You can find out more about her here.

Feature Image: Supplied.

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Top Comments

bells74 2 years ago
My 94yo nan, who died a few months ago after an amazing life ,  always wore tacky Christmas earrings ( she didn’t think they were though 😁) so to honour and remember her I bought tacky xmas earrings for all the females and after doing a lucky dip for them we have worn them Christmas Eve and today. Everyone loved it and will cherish the earrings because of what they represent. That little thought put a smile on our all faces and knowing she’d have loved seeing us wearing them. 

lookoutsmithers 2 years ago
I find that very description of time moving further away from them last being alive very poignant . My loved one was abducted & murdered in the national capital 20 years ago this year. That resentment at the community started just after her wake finished and remains ever present to this very hour. It’s a strange and unfamiliar feeling which equal parts anger&unknown feeling. And even though it’s impossible, you’d feel a certain entitlement in demanding the whole city has to just hit PAUSE, like on everything. It all just has to stop until we can know what happened for our loved one to end up murdered in a most foul scenario. You owe us that much don’t you think? Ridiculous it may be, but it is a feeling none the less. And you don’t get control over what feelings come to you. 
Even to this day I feel like asking everyone if they remember “that girl, the one they pulled from the lake” etc. And immediately asking 
them : “please don’t forget her, please remember her parents and her brothers are still waiting to know what happened” They still cry on the days I don’t. 
The more time that elapses, the group of that are aware of her death gets smaller. The only thing you would do , you can’t. Time waits for no one, it cannot be stopped. 
Love to all with an empty chair today. J xx