Let grief and joy coexist this holiday season

Temperatures at this time of year in Finland, depending on the latitude, can range from -5 to -40 degrees Celsius. The taxi wove through the cemetery, trying to drop us off as close to Ukki's grave as possible. At this time of year, one could see hundreds of candles placed just beneath the vast blanket of snow, each marking a grave. It was magical – a field of lights in a place we associate with grief.

Grief, especially during the holidays, can feel particularly weighty. We have these expectations – especially in the United States – of perfect meals, cheerful banter, young and old coming together around a beautifully laid table. But sometimes, and maybe more common in the midst of this ongoing pandemic, there might be a newly empty chair at the table.

Unfortunately, it feels too often that we hesitate to bring this chair up, worried that by simply drawing attention to it, the carefully orchestrated family gathering meant to bring joy might do the inverse? What if it does?

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In Japan, where my husband and I once lived, most families we visited kept a shrine in a prominent place with photographs of loved ones who had passed away, both recently and long ago. Alongside these one might also see a thimble of green tea or a clementine or other offering. These shrines were not folded up and put away at the end of the holiday season. No. The Japanese kept these reminders of loss as a part of their daily lives.

Grief expert Pauline Boss said in an interview with Krista Tippett, "Americans like closure. But in reality, there is no such thing as closure. We have to live with loss, clear or ambiguous. And it's OK. It's OK to see people who are hurting and just to say something simple. ‘I'm so sorry.’ You really don't have to say more than that.”

Boss, myself and others have noticed that by simply acknowledging grief, it can help those most affected feel seen and heard, and paradoxically even (not always) enable them to more easily experience other emotions alongside their grief, like joy.

As you gather (many after skipping last year), may you welcome in light and dark, grief and joy and the entire spectrum between these which make up a life, any life, all lives.