Supporting Little Grievers During the Holidays

A sweet child shared with me recently that they were sad about their mother’s death, and a family member told them to “get over it.” It being their grief. It being their beloved parent who died. I needed to get these words onto paper as a gentle reminder to our world of trusted adults who are helping these sweet grievers navigate life, the holidays, and all that is still ahead of them: grief is not something to “get over.” It is a lifelong journey of missing and maintaining a relationship with someone who is no longer physically here. You are moving with it and through it…not over it.

That could mean their person who died was the one who couldn’t wait to pull out the holiday decorations and fill the house with magic. Their holiday magic maker isn’t here this Christmas, and that is hard. They could have been the one always ready with a hug after a hard day. They could have been the one who made the cinnamon rolls Christmas morning or the one who always knew exactly where the tape was when it was time to wrap presents. Maybe they were the steady presence at school events, or the voice that cheered the loudest from the sidelines. When that person is gone, the holidays don’t just feel different — they are different. And kids notice. Deeply.

For kids especially, grief tends to show up in all sorts of ways — in big feelings, short fuses, quiet moments, or sudden tears over something that seems small. It might come out as excitement one minute and sadness the next. Both can be true at the same time. That doesn’t mean they’re “stuck” or “dwelling.” It means they’re human.

For trusted adults walking alongside grieving kids, especially during the holidays, the most helpful thing we can do is make space. Space to talk about the person who died. Space to say their name. Space to keep traditions, change traditions, or skip them altogether. Space to be joyful and sad without needing to choose one. Grief isn’t something to fix or rush — it’s something to be witnessed.

Sometimes kids don’t need the right words or a silver lining. They need someone who won’t flinch when they say, “I miss my mom,” or “Christmas doesn’t feel the same.” Someone who can respond with, “I know. I miss them too,” or “That makes a lot of sense.” Being willing to sit in that truth with them — even when it’s uncomfortable — is a gift.

This season, may we remember that love doesn’t end when someone dies, and neither does grief. It simply changes shape. And for children learning how to carry both love and loss, our patience, gentleness, and understanding matter more than anything. And please, as a gift to that special child you love, do not tell them to “get over it” this holiday season.