Finding Hope and Healing After Loss During the Holidays
The holidays are traditionally a time filled with joy, warmth, and togetherness—but for many of us, they can also be bittersweet. Since losing my mom on July 27, 2021, the holidays have been a challenging time. While each season has become easier, her absence still feels like a quiet ache, a reminder of how deeply she loved this season and how much she brought to it to make it special.
My mom was the very essence of holiday joy, transforming our home into a dazzling festive wonderland. Every corner of our house was filled with the magic of Christmas decorations, wooden Santas, stuffed gnomes, glittering lights, knick-knacks lining the top of the fireplace, candles covering the dining room table, and a tree filled with every ornament imaginable. She would hum along to her favorite holiday tunes as she baked treats and cooked meals that filled the house with delicious aromas. For her, the holidays were not merely a celebration but an opportunity to bring our family closer together and create cherished moments that would linger in our memories long after the last decoration was packed away.
When she passed, the holidays felt like they lost their sparkle. The first season without her felt like nothing but a heavy reminder of her absence. Decorating felt meaningless, and even the happiest songs seemed to magnify the emptiness. But as time has passed, I’ve realized that the best way to honor her is to lean into the traditions she loved and embrace the joy she worked so hard to create. I’m now able to decorate, watch funny movies, and sing along to my favorite songs, knowing deep down that is what she would want me to do.
“This holiday season, I’ll be lighting a candle for my mom, letting its soft glow remind me of her spirit—a spirit that continues to guide me toward hope and healing.”
This journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s been one of hope and healing. I’ve learned that it’s okay to be sad one moment and grateful the next. I was lucky to have such a close relationship with my mom. She was my closest friend, and while I miss our daily conversations, I am so thankful for all the memories I now carry with me everywhere I go.
For anyone facing the holiday season with a heavy heart, please remember you’re not alone in your struggle. It’s okay to embrace both joy and sorrow, to laugh while you miss someone, to cry with a heart full of gratitude, and to honor the memories of the past while stepping into the present. As we approach this season, I encourage you to find small ways to carry your loved ones with you, whether through a tradition, a memory or simply allowing yourself to feel their presence. Their love doesn’t fade; it changes shape, becoming part of our identity.
This holiday season, I’ll be lighting a candle for my mom, letting its soft glow remind me of her spirit—a spirit that continues to guide me toward hope and healing.
There is beauty in the journey, even when it feels hard. Let the light of the season remind you that healing is possible, one small step at a time. There is always hope, even in the darkest of times.
Lisa Andersson
Director of Development and Communications
My mom being silly at the Las Noches de las Luminarias.
Desert Botanical Garden, Phoenix, AZ
