Where Are You, Christmas, Why Can’t I Find You?

Walking Through Grief During the Holidays

– by Jay Jacobson, LUTCF, CPC, CFSP

The holidays arrive with sparkle and a soundtrack. Lights twinkle across porches. Stores hum with music. Commercials promise joy, warmth, and perfect moments framed in ribbons and bows. But for many, the season begins with a quiet ache that echoes the opening line of the song by Faith Hill: “Where are you, Christmas? Why can’t I find you?”

That lyric captures what grief often feels like this time of year. Christmas is everywhere, yet somehow it feels distant. The world moves quickly. Grief slows you down. One asks for celebration. The other insists you honor what hurts.

And grief does not take a holiday break. It does not wait for January. It does not soften, even though the calendar suggests it should.

When the Season You Loved Starts to Feel Foreign

Losing someone changes the holidays. Every tradition looks different. Every familiar moment carries a shadow. The empty chair. The ornament you hesitate to touch. The recipe you pull out, then gently slide back into the drawer.

When my mother died shortly before Christmas, the world lost its color. She adored this season. Mom filled it with music, food, warmth, and an energy only she could create. That first December without her felt like walking through a dimly lit room. I remember hearing the lyric, “My world is changing, I’m rearranging,” and realizing my Christmas had changed, too.

A year later, just as I felt myself inching toward joy again, my nephew died suddenly. Also, just before Christmas. The weight was staggering. It felt as though the season kept reopening wounds still trying to heal. Grief arrived in layers. Some gentle. Some heavy. Some sharp enough to stop me midsentence.

This is why holiday grief feels so intense. The season magnifies what is missing. A smell, a song, or a simple errand can unravel you before you reach the checkout line.

Christmas Hasn’t Disappeared. It Simply Looks Different Now.

When grief becomes part of your life, Christmas shifts. It becomes less about the pressure to be cheerful and more about choosing moments that bring you peace. You may not feel the joy you once did, but you can still find softness, connection, or a quiet moment when your heart feels a little lighter.

And this truth offers comfort:

Grief may come for a season, but joy comes in the morning.

Joy will return in its own time. Not to erase what happened, but to rise carefully beside it, like morning light stretching across a dark room.

It Is More Than OK to Say No

This season often brings invitations, expectations, and emotional weight. When you are grieving, saying yes to everything can leave you exhausted and overwhelmed.

So hear this clearly: It is OK to say no. It is OK to decline invitations. It is OK to step back from traditions. It is OK to choose rest over celebration. It is OK to protect your heart.

You are not disappointing anyone by honoring what you can handle. You are caring for yourself in one of the most courageous ways possible.

The Elephant in the Room Is Real. Acknowledge It Before It Steals the Day.

When someone is missing, everyone feels it. Everyone senses the shift. Everyone wonders if they should speak or stay silent.

Silence grows heavy. Conversations become careful. Nothing feels quite settled.

Naming the absence, gently and early, helps release the tension.

A Simple, Gentle Ritual to Ground the Gathering

Before the meal or before the gifts or before everyone settles in, gather your people and say something like: “Before we begin, I want to acknowledge someone we’re missing. We all feel it. Let’s share a memory or one thing we’re grateful for about them.”

Then choose one of these:

1. A Memory Round

Everyone shares one short memory. Tears and laughter both belong here.

2. A Candle of Remembrance

Light a single candle and let it burn throughout the gathering.

3. A “Wish They Were Here” Ornament or Note

Provide small cards or a blank ornament, and invite people to share messages or memories.

4. A Photo Moment

Place a photo in a meaningful spot. Say their name. Breathe again.

This small moment grounds the day. It softens the edges. It helps everyone move forward with honesty instead of silence.

Supporting Yourself Through the Season

You are not required to be cheerful on command. You are not required to pretend you are OK. You are allowed to move gently.

• Let tradition bend instead of breaking

• Set boundaries that protect your heart

• Expect the waves and let them rise and fall

• Ask for help earlier than you think you need it

• Honor your loved one with intention

• And remember again: it is OK to say no

A Christmas That Whispers Instead of Shouts

If you find yourself humming the lyric, “Do you remember the one you used to know?” remember this. Christmas is not gone. It is meeting you differently this year.

It may come softly. It may come quietly. It may feel tender instead of celebratory.

But meaning still lives here. Love still lives here. Hope still lives here.

Grief does not erase Christmas. It reshapes it. And in that reshaping, you may discover a season built on honesty, heart, and healing.

If this season feels heavy, you are not alone. Your grief is real. Your heart is telling the truth. And somewhere in the quiet, Christmas waits patiently, ready to meet you with gentleness, courage, and just enough light for the next step.

-Teaching with purpose, blending practical tools with real-world wisdom.

About the Author

Jay Jacobson is a licensed funeral director, business owner, author, and community leader living in Ankeny, Iowa. With decades of experience serving families through some of their most difficult moments, Jay writes with compassion, clarity, and a deep understanding of grief, leadership, and resilience. He is the founder of Jacobson Professional Staffing and the author of Lead by Legendary Example, a book that blends storytelling and practical insight to help leaders create stronger, healthier workplaces.

Jay is also the owner of Jay’s Cookies, a small bakery born out of his love for creativity and community connection. Whether guiding leaders, supporting families, or baking a perfect batch of cookies, Jay’s work is rooted in service, integrity, and the belief that small actions can change lives.

He lives, works, and writes with purpose, believing that grief, hope, and healing can coexist, especially when shared with others.