Coping at Christmas if you have lost a loved one

5 minute read time.

For many of us, Christmas is a time for family and friends. It’s usually that one moment in the year when all the people you love most come together. It’s normally a joyful time, full of love, laughter and traditions. But if you are coping with the death of a loved one, Christmas can be a very difficult time. It can bring feelings of grief to the surface again as you’re reminded of the absence of loved ones. In the past week on the Community, I've been reading lots of posts about this. I was incredibly moved by all the stories and messages of support, so I decided to blog for you and share my experience and a bit of support.

If you are facing your first Christmas after someone you love has died, it can be especially hard. You might be feeling lots of different emotions, for example:

  • anxiety about how you will cope on the day
  • determination to put on a brave face for other family members or your children
  • grief and sadness that your loved one is not there to share the day with you.

It’s important to remember that there is no right or wrong way to feel. Your feelings may change from day to day, or even hour to hour. One moment you may feel that you are coping, and the next you may be completely overwhelmed by feelings of sadness. It’s quite normal to have ups and downs like this, and it may help to allow yourself to express whatever emotions you feel.

If the person who has died was very close to you and was a big part of your Christmas traditions, it can be upsetting to try and work out how to get through this time of year without them. What do you do differently? Does someone need to step into their shoes? Do you keep going with your old traditions, or do you try to make new ones? Do you celebrate at all, or just wait quietly for the day to pass? These different thoughts may be like a blizzard inside your head. Other people may have different ideas that they share with you and everything can seem very overwhelming.

I lost my dad to melanoma when I was 18 and, if I’m honest, the first Christmas without him was a blur. All the Christmases I can remember were always just the four of us – mum, dad, me and my older brother.

I think this made the fact that he wasn’t there more painfully obvious. That year, we did the same things we had always done. I don’t remember that being a conscious decision we made, but for us it just felt like the only thing to do. To stop and think about the fact that he wouldn’t be there would have hurt too much, so we just ploughed on.

We gave each other presents, me and my brother having wrapped up everything we could possibly think of for my mum, to try and take away some of her pain and make her smile. We also did this as we felt she was missing out on things she would have got from my dad. We smiled and laughed like always, but were all acutely aware that something, or rather someone, was missing. Over Christmas dinner, we listened to our traditional Christmas CD and raised our glasses (with Cliff Richard in the background) and even I, who then hated to show emotion, cried a little. Because it hurt. And I don’t think anyone who has experienced grief would tell you any different. But we got through it and made it through to Boxing Day, New Year’s Eve and into the new year.

Now, years on, we are facing the eighth Christmas with just the three of us. The time that has passed has helped me to heal (as the saying goes), but there are of course still moments that make me very sad. Getting off the train at my little station in Cornwall and seeing just one figure waiting on the platform was always one of those moments for me (along with the moment in The Muppet Christmas Carol when the say, ‘We will never forget Tiny Tim’). But this year, my brother and I are driving home for Christmas together (and will be booming out Chris Rea as we go!). I now truly look forward to and enjoy Christmas again, mainly because it means we are all together. Although it will always be slightly bittersweet, time has made it easier to appreciate the ‘sweet’ and has lessened the ‘bitter’.

I think what I’m trying to say is, Christmas without a loved one will undoubtedly be hard. But I, and many of you know, that you will muddle through somehow. Try to do what feels right for you, whether you choose to carry on with your traditions, have a quiet day, focus on your children or other family members, or have a meal out.

If you think you would like to, you could do something to remember the person that has died. You could sit quietly in a place that has special memories for you, send off a balloon in memory of the person, post something about them on social media, or organise a meal in their memory. If you would like more support, you may find our information about bereavement helpful. Here are some other things you could try that may help you cope.


To see what else Macmillan's cancer information team has been blogging about, please visit our blog home page! You can subscribe to receive our blogs by email or RSS too.

We're with you every step of the way

The Macmillan team is here to help. Our cancer support specialists can answer your questions, offer support, or simply listen if you need a chat. Call us free on 0808 808 00 00. We have extended weekend opening hours over the Christmas period, so the support line will also be available from 9am to 8pm on Saturday 23rd and Sunday 24th December and on Saturday 30th and Sunday 31st December.

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