by Roz Clark
The holidays promise comfort and joy — and yet this season finds me walking with a blend of wonder and gratitude, even as grief continues to unfold in unexpected ways. I am living my first holidays without my mother’s physical presence, and what surprises me most is not the heaviness I anticipated but the tenderness that keeps meeting me alongside it.
This time feels less about fixing what hurts and more about noticing what remains — the beauty threaded through memory, the softness of love that does not disappear with loss, and the way the heart somehow learns to hold more than one truth at once.
After caring for my 90-year-old mother on hospice in my home, I found myself changed in unexpected ways. There was no great revelation — only a deepening of presence. There were days when she was alert and fully present, and others when she hovered between two worlds.
I learned how little control we truly have, and how much grace is available when we stop trying to manage the moment and simply become present with what is. That time marked the beginning of the balancing act between joy and grief — teaching me that love never leaves. It lingers, gentle and faithful, waiting to be noticed.
If you’re finding yourself holding everything together this season — still showing up, still shouldering responsibilities, still being seen as “the strong one” — you’re not alone.
Grief doesn’t pause for holidays or deadlines or family expectations. It lives alongside the tasks we continue to carry and the roles we’re still expected to fill.
Strength can look remarkably composed on the outside, even when the heart inside is longing for room to rest, release, and exhale.
This year, I am letting go of the unspoken pressure to make the holidays “special” for everyone — to host, to orchestrate, to create a version of celebration that keeps all other feelings neatly out of view.
I am choosing something simpler instead: to meet each day as it comes, without rehearsing how it should look or feel.
There is a newfound peace and freedom in allowing the season to be what it is, rather than trying to make it conform to tradition or expectation. I am discovering that presence, more than planning, is what brings the truest sense of connection.
Cooking has always been my love language — something my mother and I shared from the time I was a little girl. This season, I’ll lean into that ritual as a way of honoring her: preparing the dishes she loved, moving mindfully through familiar recipes, allowing the warmth of the kitchen to become a place of connection. Each meal a sweet reminder — flavored with memory, gratitude, and the kind of joy that does not erase loss but creates space for it.
Perhaps you are finding your own ways to honor someone you love this season. What rituals will you choose to create to allow room for both comfort and joy?
As I move through this season of firsts, I am no longer looking for certainty or closure.
I am learning to trust as life continues unfolding — to stay open to whatever this season brings, both the ache and the unexpected moments of joy, laughter, and gratitude.
There is a grace that holds me and comforts me. It is, as it always was, the Divine speaking to me through my mother’s love.
Roz Clark, known as The Dream Doula®, is a transformational speaker and coach supporting high-achieving women through seasons of change, grief, and rebirth. Her workshops help organizations cultivate people-centered cultures where women feel seen and supported. She is the host of the YouTube Podcast “Conversations w/ Roz Clark”.
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