Grief: Navigating Holidays or Special Days After Loss

Mindfulness & Compassion in Grief: Navigating Holidays and Special Days After Loss

Holidays and special days can be a time of connection, tradition, and celebration—but after the loss of a loved one, they often feel like sharp reminders of what’s missing. Whether you're grieving a parent, spouse, sibling, or someone else close to your heart, holidays can stir pain in a world that seems to be moving on.

And even if you don’t personally celebrate a holiday, you may still feel its impact—through decorations in stores, social media posts, cheerful conversations around you. Grief can feel louder in those moments, even when you're not observing the holiday yourself.

If you're navigating this season with a heavy heart, you're not alone. This guide offers a mindful, compassionate way to approach any special weekend or holiday—no matter how or whether you celebrate.

First, Honor That Holidays May Hurt

Grief doesn't follow a calendar. Just because it's Easter, Eid, Diwali, Thanksgiving, Christmas, or a birthday doesn't mean your heart is ready to smile, gather, or celebrate. Be honest with yourself:

• Are you dreading the date?

• Feeling guilty for skipping traditions?

• Tired of pretending you're okay?

Give yourself full permission to feel exactly as you do. Grief is not a problem to fix—it's a response to love. And around the holidays, it often stirs even more strongly.

It’s okay to:

• Feel dread when others feel joy.

• Opt out of events.

• Say, “Not this year.”

Let your grief speak its truth. It’s not a weakness—it’s a reflection of love.

🌿 A Mindful Way to Hold Your Grief

Mindfulness doesn’t mean "clearing your mind" or “being positive.” It means:

“Let me gently notice what’s here right now, without trying to change it.”

Mindfulness also isn’t about “fixing” how you feel. It’s about gently noticing what’s here, with compassion.

This small shift in awareness helps you respond with curiosity instead of judgment.

You can try this:

• Sit quietly for a few minutes.

• Ask: “What’s here with me?” or “What am I feeling right now?”

• Is it sadness? Longing? Numbness? Relief?

• You don’t have to name it perfectly. Just let it be.

• Place a hand on your heart and simply say, “This belongs.”

This small act of presence honors your grief without needing to change it.

That is mindfulness. That is compassion. That is healing.

Create New Rituals or Rest (Both are Valid)

You don’t owe anyone your presence or performance. That includes holiday dinners, gift exchanges, or smiling through carols. You don't need to uphold traditions if they feel too heavy. You also don’t need to avoid them entirely. You can create something small and sacred—or choose stillness.

You might instead:

• Light a candle in their honor.

• Write a letter to your loved one.

• Make their favorite recipe and eat in silence.

• Volunteer, if it feels good.

• Take a walk and feel their presence with you.

• Rest. Truly. That alone can be your ritual.

• Or simply stay home, wrapped in a blanket of permission.

New rituals can be small but sacred. Or no ritual at all—that’s valid too.

For Different Types of Grief

Grief Looks Different for Each Loss. Grieving a loved one shapes each holiday in unique ways. Here's how mindfulness and compassion can hold the nuances:

Grieving a Parent:

You may feel unanchored, like the family traditions have lost their compass. Allow space for the ache, and consider:

·       Reflecting on their values or lessons that live through you.

• Telling their stories aloud at dinner (if you choose to attend)

• Listening to their favorite music

• Parenting yourself with gentleness that day

Grieving a Spouse:

Holidays can feel painfully hollow without them by your side. You may feel pressure to "keep it going" for others. But you’re allowed to:

• Say no to invitations

• Stay home

• Ask for help with holiday logistics

• Create a moment just for you and their memory—light a candle, speak to them, or simply cry.

Grieving a Sibling:

Siblings carry shared memories, childhood magic, and private language. You may feel lonely in a crowd of people who don’t understand your specific pain. Try:

• Creating a photo collage or memory box

• Telling a favorite story of theirs to someone who will really listen.

• Writing them a letter about what you miss most

• Holding space for both sorrow and laughter.

How to Handle Well-Meaning (but Awkward) Situations, When People Don’t Know What to Say

You may hear:

• “They’d want you to be happy.”

• “At least they lived a long life.”

• “You have so much to be grateful for.”

And the one I dread hearing by now:

•    “You’re so strong.”

Oof. While people often mean well, these words can sting. They can feel dismissive. Consider a gentle script:

“Thanks for caring. I’m giving myself space right now.”

Or even:

“Today’s hard. I’m giving myself space, and I appreciate your understanding.”

Or, say nothing at all. You don’t owe anyone emotional performance.

You don’t have to teach others how to comfort you—you just get to be honest.

Permission (Read This When It’s Too Much)

You are allowed to skip the holiday. You are allowed to cry in public or stay quiet in a room full of laughter. You are allowed to remember them in your own way. You are allowed to feel joy, too—it doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten. You are allowed to feel nothing at all.

Grief is not linear. There is no "right" way to do this. But bringing awareness to your needs, your pain, and your breath—that’s a path to healing.

💌 A Gentle Permission Slip

You are allowed to not celebrate.
You are allowed to feel joy, guilt, sadness, or nothing at all.
You are allowed to take the day minute by minute.
You are allowed to change your mind.
You are allowed to just be.

Compassion is not a luxury in grief—it’s a necessity.

If Nothing Else, Let Compassion Lead

If you take nothing else from this, my invitation to you is to take this:

Be kind to yourself.

That might mean naps instead of parties. Soft music instead of loud rooms. A simple meal over a big production.

Your grief deserves compassion. So do you.

Whether you’re marking a holiday, a special event, avoiding one, or quietly surviving the waves around you—your grief is valid.

Let your heart take the lead. Let mindfulness be your anchor. And let compassion be your constant.

If you’re reading this in the midst of grief, please know: you're not alone, even when it feels like the weight of the world has placed an unbearable burden on your shoulders, and that everything has become too much to carry. And it’s okay if you're not okay.

With Love and Kindness,

Yasemin

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If you’re seeking community: I offer ongoing mindful grief circles, including two currently forming:

• For those who’ve lost a partner or spouse

• For adult children grieving the loss of a parent

If you want to go deeper on your own: My self-paced course Navigating Grief Mindfully is available anytime, to support you at your own pace., where I guide you through grief with mindfulness, presence, and compassion. Sometimes watching videos, and listening to guided meditations in our solitude is all we can handle.

And if you need one-on-one space: Compassionate support is available privately—you're welcome to reach out if that feels right for you.

Grief Doesn’t Follow Stages: A Mindful, Compassionate Path After the Loss of a Spouse or Partner

Grief Doesn’t Follow Stages: A Mindful, Compassionate Path After the Loss of a Spouse or Partner

Whether you’ve lost a partner after a few years together or a lifetime, the grief that follows is immense. It’s not just the absence of the person—it’s the absence of shared routines, private jokes, quiet moments, future plans. It’s the loss of your witness, your rhythm, your anchor.

For those who’ve walked this road, and for those who are just beginning, let me say something clearly: there are no neat “stages” of grief. That’s one of the most pervasive myths I’ve had to gently unteach again and again. Grief isn’t a checklist. It doesn’t unfold in a tidy, linear progression. It’s not about reaching a final step where you “move on.”

Instead, grief moves like water—shifting, spiraling, ebbing and surging. It’s as individual as your relationship was. And it doesn’t expire at the one-year mark.

There Are No Stages—There Is Only What Is

The idea of five stages—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance—was originally developed to describe the experience of people facing their own terminal illness, not those grieving a loss. But over time, it became a kind of cultural template for how we expect grief to unfold.

In my years supporting those grieving a spouse or partner, and through my own experience of loss, I’ve seen how unhelpful and even harmful that framework can be. People often come to me saying, “I’m stuck in the anger stage,” or “I should be at acceptance by now.”

There is no “should” in grief. Grief is not a problem to be solved. It’s a process to be lived—with care, with compassion, and with presence.

How Grief Changes Over Time

The first year can be disorienting. You may feel like you’re living in a fog, simply putting one foot in front of the other. Your nervous system is in survival mode. The world around you keeps going, but yours has paused in some invisible way.

Then comes the second year—and for many, this is where the deeper emotional terrain begins to surface. The support that was there early on may have faded. The finality starts to settle in. You may not feel “better,” even though the world often expects you to.

None of this means you’re doing it wrong. Grief isn’t just about what’s lost—it’s about learning to live in a changed landscape. And that landscape keeps shifting.

Over the years, grief can become less sharp, but more textured. You learn how to carry it. You build new muscle. You begin to hold both love and loss in the same breath.

Bringing Compassion and Presence to Daily Life

What I’ve seen again and again is that we don’t need to “fix” our grief. We need to meet it. To learn how to stay with it in a way that’s kind and grounded. These are some of the approaches that I’ve seen bring the most gentle steadiness to those walking through loss:

1. Presence, Not Perfection

Grief isn’t something you get better at—it’s something you live alongside. Some days you may feel functional, even joyful. Other days, brushing your teeth feels like an accomplishment. Both are real. Both are valid. Ask yourself each day: What’s here right now? How can I be with it, kindly?

2. Make Room for the Full Range of Emotions

There’s no wrong emotion in grief. Sadness, anger, guilt, relief, even moments of laughter—they’re all part of the experience. Try not to judge what arises. Simply naming what you feel—“I feel overwhelmed,” or “I miss them so much it aches”—can bring some gentle grounding.

3. Create Simple Daily Anchors

When your world feels unstable, small, intentional routines can help. Light a candle. Sit quietly with your tea. Step outside and feel the air on your skin. These aren’t solutions. They’re steadiness. They remind you that even in grief, life still moves, breath still comes.

4. Let Your Grief Be Seen

There’s a healing that happens in being witnessed. Not advised, not pitied—just truly seen. Find spaces, whether with a trusted person or a grief guide, where your story can live without needing to be edited. Grief is heavy; it’s lighter when carried together.

5. Choose How You Remember

Grief isn’t just about letting go. It’s also about holding on—with intention. Speak their name. Keep something of theirs nearby. Cook their favorite dish on their birthday. These acts of remembrance are not morbid—they’re meaningful. They keep love present.

6. Welcome Joy Without Guilt

When joy returns—because it will—don’t push it away. Joy doesn’t erase grief. It grows beside it. Smiling, laughing, feeling hopeful again isn’t a betrayal. It’s a sign of your capacity to keep living with an open heart.

You Don’t Have to Walk This Path Alone

Whether you’re in the rawness of early grief or navigating its quieter, long-term presence years later, your experience matters. It’s worth honoring. It deserves space and care.

If you're ready for personalized support, I offer 1-on-1 private sessions designed to meet you exactly where you are—no fixing, no agenda, just space to breathe, feel, and gently move through what’s arising.

You can schedule private a session (over Zoom) here →.

And if you’d prefer to walk this path on your own time and in your own way, my self-paced master class on navigating grief offers guided teachings, mindfulness practices, and reflections to support your heart over time.

You can learn more about Navigating Grief Self-Paced Course and enroll here →.

Grief changes you. It doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’ve loved deeply. And with time, care, and presence, you can learn to live forward—with your grief beside you, not against you.

You are not alone.

With steadiness and compassion,
Yasemin Isler

Navigating Suicide Grief

Navigating Suicide Grief: A Compassionate Guide for the Road Ahead

Grieving the loss of someone to suicide is a uniquely painful experience—one that often brings an overwhelming mix of emotions that can be hard to name, let alone carry. If you are reading this, it means you’re facing something that no one ever should. Please know: your grief is valid, your heart is not alone, and there is nothing wrong with the way you are feeling right now.

Suicide Grief Is Different

All grief is painful, but when someone dies by suicide, the loss carries a unique kind of weight. You might find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions—shock, sorrow, guilt, rage, confusion, or even numbness. These feelings may not come one at a time. They may arrive in waves, all at once, or not at all until weeks or months later.

You may be left with unanswered questions, painful memories, or regrets that haunt the quiet moments. You may find yourself replaying your last conversations, wondering what you missed, or blaming yourself in ways that feel unbearable.

Please hear this gently: you are not to blame. Suicide is complex. It is often the result of deep mental, emotional, or neurological pain that can distort a person’s sense of reality and hope. Your love was not absent. Your care was not insufficient. Your grief now is proof of the bond you shared.

There’s No “Right” Way to Grieve

Grief after suicide is not linear. There’s no checklist, no finish line, and no perfect path. Some days, you may function. Other days, even getting out of bed may feel impossible. One hour might feel manageable, the next completely overwhelming.

If you’ve felt pressure to “move on” or “stay strong,” I invite you to let go of those expectations. You do not need to perform your grief for anyone. You do not need to be okay. What you need—more than anything—is care, patience, and space to feel your truth.

You Are Not Alone

It’s not uncommon to feel deeply isolated in suicide grief. People often don’t know what to say, or say the wrong thing, unintentionally adding to your pain. If you’ve encountered silence, discomfort, or hurtful comments from others, I’m so sorry. You deserve better.

There are safe places where your grief is understood. People who won’t flinch when you say the word “suicide.” Communities where you don’t have to explain or justify your emotions. Here are a few trusted resources:

• Alliance of Hope – Created specifically for those who have lost loved ones to suicide, this site offers forums, support groups, and compassionate resources.

• American Foundation for Suicide Prevention – Loss Survivors – Find local support groups and healing resources across the U.S.

• Crisis Text Line – Free, confidential help. Text HOME to 741741 to connect with a trained crisis counselor 24/7.

• 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline – Call or text 988 any time, day or night, if you need someone to talk to.

[Mindful Pause – 2-Minute Compassion Practice]

Take a moment now, if you’re willing, to gently pause.

1. Sit or lie down in a comfortable position.

2. Take a slow, deep breath in… and gently out.

3. Place your hand on your heart if it feels comforting.

4. Say to yourself quietly: “This is hard. I’m grieving. And I am allowed to feel it all.”

5. Continue breathing gently, noticing where you feel tension or heaviness.

6. Offer yourself compassion:

   “May I be held in kindness.”

   “May I find moments of peace.”

7. When you’re ready, open your eyes or return to the page.
   You are doing your best—and that is enough.

Mindfulness and Grief: Being With What’s Here

Grief often pulls us into the past and future—what was, what could have been. Mindfulness invites us, softly, back into the present moment, not to fix the pain but to befriend it.

You don’t need to meditate for an hour a day or sit in stillness to practice mindfulness. You only need to notice. One conscious breath. One moment of awareness. One small act of compassion toward yourself.

Grief changes everything. And mindfulness can help you stay connected to the one thing you still have: yourself.

When the World Doesn’t Understand

Suicide is still surrounded by silence and stigma in many places. You may feel like you’re grieving in a world that expects you to hide your pain. You may be met with awkward avoidance, spiritual clichés, or assumptions that add shame where you most need tenderness.

Please protect your heart. You are under no obligation to explain your loss to anyone who cannot hold it with care. Instead, seek out those who will sit with your pain—not rush to fix it.

Ways to Gently Remember Your Loved One

As time passes, you may feel a desire to keep your loved one’s memory close in a way that feels meaningful. Here are a few gentle ideas:

• Light a candle in their honor on birthdays or anniversaries

• Create a private photo album or memory journal

• Speak their name aloud when you’re ready

• Start a small ritual—a walk, a prayer, a song—that connects you to them

• Support a mental health or suicide prevention cause in their memory

There’s no “should” here. There is only what feels right to your grieving heart.

If the Pain Feels Too Heavy

Sometimes the pain of suicide grief can feel like too much to bear. If you ever feel yourself sinking too deep—or wondering whether life is worth continuing—please reach out. Your life matters. Your presence is needed.

You can call or text 988 in the U.S. any time.

You can also speak with a grief therapist, a spiritual counselor, or a trusted friend.

Let someone walk with you.

Gentle Support for Your Grief Journey

If you’re looking for more support as you navigate this complicated grief, I offer online mindfulness-based grief services, including courses and one-on-one guidance. My approach is gentle, validating, and trauma-informed—always honoring your unique pace. You are welcome here, exactly as you are.

Learn more about support and resources here – or email for direct connection if you wish to connect with me.

You’re Not Broken. You’re Grieving.

You don’t need to be fixed. You need to be seen. Held. Honored.

Let this blog be a small place where your grief is met with tenderness. You are not alone. And in time—perhaps not now, but someday—there may be moments of peace again. You don’t have to rush there. For now, just keep breathing. Keep feeling. Keep going.

You are loved.

Yasemin

When the Heart Breaks Open: Grieving the Loss of a Partner

When the Heart Breaks Open: Grieving the Loss of a Partner with Mindfulness and Compassion

There’s a unique ache in losing a partner—the one you shared your days with, your bed with, your inside jokes, your future plans, your quiet moments. The one who knew your rhythms and quirks, who showed up beside you in the mundane and the magical. When they’re gone, something in your world shifts entirely. It’s not just that they’re not here anymore—it’s that the we becomes me, and even your breath feels different.

Losing a partner can feel like being set adrift in your own life. And while nothing can make that pain go away, mindfulness—gentle, patient awareness—can offer small pockets of steadiness in the storm.

The Depth of This Grief

Grieving a partner isn’t linear. It’s not neat. It comes in waves, sometimes crashing, sometimes barely a ripple, but always present beneath the surface. This grief touches everything: routines, anniversaries, shared meals, the silence on the other side of the bed.

You might feel a deep longing. You might feel numb. You might swing between moments of clarity and moments you don’t know how to keep going. You might even feel angry at them for leaving, or guilty for still being here. It’s all real. It’s all allowed.

This grief isn’t just about missing a person. It’s about missing the life you had together, the way their presence shaped your sense of home, your identity, and your future.

The Invitation of Mindfulness in Grief

Mindfulness doesn’t fix grief—but it can hold it with tenderness.

To be mindful in grief is to gently turn toward your pain instead of running from it. It’s allowing yourself to feel, to soften into the present moment, even when it aches. It’s choosing presence over pressure, breath over busyness.

Here’s what that might look like:

1. Breathing Through the Waves

When the ache rises suddenly—out of nowhere, or at exactly the moment you expected—pause. Breathe. Place your hand on your heart or belly. Inhale slowly, exhale gently. Let yourself be here. Even for one breath. One breath is a beginning.

2. Letting Grief Take Up Space

You don’t have to be strong every minute. You don’t have to “move on” or get over it. Grief needs space, not solutions. Let the tears come. Let the silence be heavy. Let your heart speak in its own time.

3. Savoring the Memories—Mindfully

Not all memories bring comfort at first. But over time, with mindful attention, they can become small candles in the dark. Try sitting with a photo, a song, or a scent that reminds you of your partner. Notice the sensations. Let the feelings rise and fall without judgment.

4. Speaking to Them

Talk to them. In your heart, out loud, on paper. Tell them what hurts. Tell them what you miss. Tell them what you’re grateful for. This conversation doesn’t have to end just because they’re gone.

Compassion for Yourself

Grief is not just emotional—it’s physical, mental, spiritual. Some days you may function. Some days you may fall apart. Some days you may laugh and then feel guilty for it. This is all part of the terrain.

Be kind to yourself.
Let yourself rest.
Let yourself say no.
Let yourself feel broken.
Let yourself be loved, even in pieces.

And when the world feels like it’s moving on without you, remember: you’re not behind. You’re healing. In your own time, in your own way.

You Are Still in Relationship

Though their body is no longer here, your relationship with your partner continues. It shifts—but it doesn’t disappear. You carry their stories, their voice, their lessons, their love. You carry what you built together.

Some people find comfort in creating rituals to maintain that connection:

• Lighting a candle on special days

• Wearing something that belonged to them

• Visiting a shared favorite place

• Speaking their name

• Living a value they cherished

In these ways, they are still with you—not in the way you want, but in a way that still matters.

You Don’t Have to Do This Alone

Loss can be isolating, especially when others don’t know what to say or when the world seems to expect you to “bounce back.” But you don’t have to carry it all alone.

Whether you need someone to walk beside you or simply witness your pain without fixing it, support is available.

💬 If your heart is aching and you're looking for a space to be held in your grief, I invite you to book a time with me [here].

🎥 Prefer to explore quietly on your own? My self-paced video training on grief and mindfulness might be the gentle companion you need right now.

You can find an introduction into Gentle Grief [here],

and a deep transformative Navigating Grief and Loss [here].

However you choose to walk this path, know this:
You are not broken.
You are not alone.
And your grief is a reflection of deep, beautiful love.

With tenderness,
Yasemin Isler