Holidays are so hard after your parent dies. Memories fly up and out of our consciousness and pepper us like little darts of pain and longing. When we should be happy and joyful, thankful or relaxed, we often feel sadness, despair, loneliness, or apathy. You aren’t alone in these feelings, and I’m sorry to say holidays just might suck after your parent dies for quite some time.

They are going to hurt. I’m so sorry. But potentially if you can anticipate the hurt and have a few tricks up your sleeve, you might be able to fend off some of the heartache and possibly even salvage a little bit of joy. If you want to. I’m not rushing you.

My grief process involves feeling my feelings and sitting with them as long as I need to, and I certainly don’t ask you to push through, either. If you need to sit and cry on Christmas Eve, do it. Cry. Think of your mother. Talk aloud to your dad. You won’t be alone. I will be at home as well, eyes closed, letting grief in, letting tears out, and thinking of my mom, who died three years ago. We can do it together.

I still remember my mom’s Thanksgiving tablecloth, her special candle holders, and the vintage glass footed dish she used to hold cranberry sauce. She isn’t here to bake piles of delicate Polish cookies, frosted in white, sprinkled with sparkling colored sugar, and flavored with the anise seed oil that made the whole house smell like Christmas. My heart aches. Yours probably does, too, when you remember your lost loved one’s special moments.

This recognition hits us like a sledgehammer, over and over, with every little anecdote or story or memory or holiday smell that wafts up and hits our brain. With every amazing holiday thing comes a sharp realization that our loved one is gone. We are alone. My mother is gone. Your mom or your dad is gone.

You may have traditions with your parent that go all the way back to your childhood. The child you were remains in your heart now. That child looks around at the world the way it is, where the air feels thinner inside your grief membrane, and thinks this is so unfair.

We want to feel holiday joy, but instead we are constantly reminded that we are not the children anymore. There is not a parent coming to make everything fun. There is not an adult to create special memories, bake amazing meals, or concoct treats we will remember for years to come. We are the adults now. What?! I have to do this?? I have to make magic how many times a year?! How. Truly. How?

You can continue to think that all holidays suck. I am not rushing you. Quite often holidays are terrible for me as well. But if you are ready, and you want to try to dig just a little to find some joy, maybe consider a few things. If you want to salvage a holiday, or at least have it suck less, it is possible.

Drop Everything.

Drop everything. Let go of everything you think you should do. Let go of everything you are trying to recreate from your past. When you are grieving it can be an awful lot of pressure to try to live up to what was before. So let yourself start anew. Erase the holiday as you’ve always known it, and start with a fresh page. You get to decide what Thanksgiving looks like this year, what you will cook. Or not cook. What your family will do on special days.

I have my mom’s vintage Christmas nativity set. And it’s big–definitely a focal point that cannot be ignored when it’s on display. For three years since her death, it has stayed inside its enormous box. I am not ready. Unwrapping those figurines and ceramic animals would make me feel too deeply sad, and so I just don’t. Not yet.

You get to paint a new picture of what holiday decorating looks like in your house. You have permission to ignore all the “shoulds” that society or friends or other moms or people who aren’t grieving place upon you. You don’t have to make the sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top. You can say no to the pressure. You can make tacos. You can order pizza. You can skip all the things that hurt. Just for this year, if that helps.

Pick Up What You Want.

Sure, you can absolutely drop the holiday and do nothing. You can also make a conscious choice to only pick up what you truly want. You can choose the memories or traditions that feel good to you. The ones that are doable right now. Do those. Pick one. Watch that holiday movie your mom loved or play your dad’s favorite holiday music. Keep it simple and easy. Be gentle on your grieving heart.

Make It Your Own, Not On Your Own.

Not everything will be as it was before. That is what’s so cruel about holidays that we loved as children–we want that former joy. We want those warm feelings. We want to perfectly recreate what it felt like to be with loved ones eating pie. But if you’re grieving, you may not have the bandwidth to make the pecan pie from scratch the way your mom did. Let yourself off the hook, while still getting a piece of that joy. Buy the pie. Let the bakery do the work. Bring home the gingerbread, the pumpkin pie, or the peppermint brittle from the grocery store. This requires much less effort, and for this year you can sit with loved ones and tell them that your mom or dad loved making this treat every year. Maybe next year you will, too.

Additionally, and most importantly, in the spirit of not doing it all on your own, try not to be on your own. Reach out to your family and friends. Tell those you love how much they mean to you. Remind them holidays are hard when you’re grieving. That may be all you have to say. Or you might mention that your holiday is going to look different this year. Tell them you’re going to need extra support and bigger, longer hugs. And also that it wouldn’t hurt if they show up with extra pie.