Holding Space for Grief & Joy
Until recently, staying in the present meant wrestling myself away from worrying about the future. Now, I’m learning it also means not being tethered to the past. The holidays, in particular, stretch me in both directions, pulling at memories of what was while I try to savor what is.
Never is this tendency to dwell in the past more present than during the holidays. Even as I sit at a table with my precious 2 and 4 year old, I already miss gatherings that will never happen again. I miss my great aunties and their lefse and our Christmases with Santa and dozens of second-cousins. I miss Christmas at my Grandma Luker’s house and the rowdy games of white elephant.
Most of us are missing someone, and a million little things about them that felt like home.
One of the best books I read this year is Becoming Duchess Goldblatt. The book follows our protagonist through a painful and abrupt divorce, as well as the death of her beloved father. To cope with her pain, she creates a twitter account called @dutchessgoldblatt. The account becomes wildly popular, but our main character, and author of the account, wish to remain anonymous. The book follows her as she copes with these heartbreaks with humor, grace, and honesty; while also managing newfound fame while maintaining anonymity. This book made me cry, laugh out loud, and turn down every other page to note passages I loved. I loved it. This book is good heart medicine.
One of the passages I wrote down is the following:
“When someone you love dies, you lose them in pieces over time, but you also get them back in pieces: little fragments of what brought them joy. If you’re lucky, you get the little pieces back for the rest of your life. Some loves you don’t recover from.” pg 110 Duchess Goldblatt
As I unwrapped my ornaments, memory after memory tumbled out. This year, my eyes lingered on a matching set of quirky figurines my Aunt Kay had made when I was a girl. The larger doll, with its careful details, was Kay herself, and the smaller one—me. I’d always delighted in their whimsy but had never noticed those quiet, loving clues. In that moment, I felt Kay’s laughter and care return to me, like a gift I hadn’t realized I’d lost."
How will you retrieve some pieces of your heart this holiday? When you do, pause a moment. Savor the memory. Write it down and give your loved one a hug, visualized in your mind.
I’m doing my best to stay grounded in the present. I know that someday I’ll be missing this iteration of my Christmases, with my children at my feet and in my arms- their NEED so strong it both fulfills and overwhelms me. I’m holding space for all the emotions as they come, knowing that grief is, in its way, a gift.
Grief brings us into the depth of a love we shared, if only for a moment.
I also find that allowing time for a spiritual practice helps me hold space for both grief and joy. If you feel yourself falling into holiday overwhelm, carving out some time for a spiritual practice can help ground you and bring you to the present.
So as you navigate this holiday season, I hope you’ll pause to feel the weight of this moment—its joys, its griefs, its fullness. Remember Yoga Sutra 1.2: 'Yoga is the cessation of the fluctuations of the mind.' It invites us to still our thoughts and immerse ourselves in the present, where love and life happen.
Someday, we’ll look back on these days with longing. Today, let’s live them fully.
Closing with a poem I love, Amanda
