The holidays have a strange way of magnifying whatever we’re carrying. For some, this
season brings excitement, celebration, and joy. For others, it brings a quiet ache that
sits just beneath the surface—an ache that we learn to hide with practiced smiles and
rehearsed lines like, “I’m okay,” or the one I’m using this year: “I’m happy enough today.”
Happy enough.
Not overflowing.
Not untouched by grief.
Just… enough to get through the moment without breaking.
For many who are grieving—a loved one, a relationship, a life they once knew—the
holidays don’t always feel like a season of light. They can feel like an emotional echo
chamber, full of reminders of who isn’t here and how life has changed in ways we never
asked for. Whether the loss was recent or years ago, there is something about this
season that pulls memories forward as if they happened yesterday.
And so we navigate it the best we can. Some participate in everything, attending events
and gatherings because being around people helps them breathe. Others withdraw, not
because they don’t care, but because the weight of pretending feels heavier than the
silence of staying home. One person may be out celebrating every night, while another
can barely get off the floor. Neither one is wrong. Neither one is weaker. They’re just
coping in different ways—and sometimes a mask is the only way to make it through
December.
That’s why kindness matters more now than ever.
Because not everyone likes this time of year.
Not everyone feels merry simply because the calendar demands it.
Grief doesn’t run on a schedule. It doesn’t pause for holidays, birthdays, or family
photos. And it certainly doesn’t disappear just because someone lights a tree or turns
on the music. Yet even in the heaviness, there is room for gentle hope—if we allow
ourselves to find it.
When I speak with families, I often tell them: Go with your grief, but make space for new
memories too. You don’t have to erase the past to step toward the future. Sometimes
healing looks like visiting a place your loved one always wanted to go. Sometimes it
means choosing a new tradition that honors them. Sometimes it’s simply showing up in
a different space—one that doesn’t sting quite as sharply.
Honor them.
Honor yourself.
And honor the truth that “happy enough” still counts. It means you’re trying. It means
you’re showing up for life, even if softly.
So this holiday season, if you find yourself looking at someone who seems quiet,
withdrawn, or a little lost, remember: there’s a story behind those eyes. A memory. A
missing piece. A heart working hard just to make it through the hour.
Offer patience. Offer grace. Offer presence.
It might be the only gift they can receive this year.
And if you, too, are the one whispering “I’m happy enough,” I want you to know that I
see you. Your grief is not a burden. Your healing is not linear. And your heart does not
have to shine in order to be worthy of love, comfort, softness, and peace.
Happy enough is enough.
For today, for this season, for this moment in your journey forward.
Iredell Memorial Park
Email: [email protected]
Founder: Widow’s Den
Columnist: One Paddle Short but Still Rowing/Widow’s Den
Author of: The Final Chapter, Grief Is Challenging Enough: What to Do Next Shouldn’t
Be, and Charlie’s Story
Monica Lucia is the Author of The Final Chapter and a passionate advocate for those
navigating grief and loss. She is the Founder of Widow’s Den and Sisterhood of LKN,
dedicated to supporting families. In addition to her writing and community-building work,
Monica is the Grief and Bereavement Counselor and End-of-Life Doula at EveryStory
Partners, Charlotte, NC.
