The Beauty of a Broken Heart

One holiday down, and more still ahead. “Thank goodness Thanksgiving is over,” some of us say. For many who are grieving, this season becomes something to endure rather than enjoy. The bright celebrations around us can make our sorrow feel even heavier, intensifying the ache of gratitude we’re “supposed” to feel. And the quick leap into the Christmas spirit—the lights, the cheer, the insistence on joy—can feel impossibly out of reach.

Grief heightens everything—old wounds, tender scars, perceived disconnections, unmet expectations, and the distance we may feel from those we love, whether emotional or physical. Even practical realities like financial strain or deciding where to go and with whom to celebrate can feel overwhelming.

I’ve come to embrace the quiet of the holidays. I prefer to lean into the heartbreak rather than resist it. It’s within that heartbreak that I meet my loved ones in spirit—where I feel their presence and the deep, enduring love that keeps growing, even when it’s also the source of my sadness.

I found my way through Thanksgiving by anchoring myself in what I truly feel grateful for—rather than comparing my life to others who seem to have more of what I still wish I had. I reached out to the people who held us during the still-unbelievable thirty-eight-day search for Graham. I reached out to the lovely artist, Kathy Bransfield, who created a bracelet engraved with a line from one of Graham’s poems- “Think of me and I will think of you. Together we’ll be in a place we once knew.” Though we’ve never met in person, the connection that has grown between us in the years since Graham’s death feels nothing short of divinely orchestrated. Her loving reflections—closing with the simple, powerful words “Thank you, Graham”—offered exactly what grieving hearts long for: witness, support, and love.

I motivated myself to cook the traditional turkey dinner for loved ones who enjoy, even if I don’t. I created thanksgiving games for my granddaughter who spent the day with me. In that spirit, somewhere in the giving, I began to feel genuine gratitude and the quiet power of simplicity.

But four long weeks of holidays still lay ahead. This past weekend, I resolved to engage, “fake it til I make it,” hoping to catch a flicker of Christmas spirit. I motivated to attend local artists’ holiday markets, thinking that daytime outings might be easier to manage. But, after only a few hours of what felt enjoyable on the surface, I came home utterly drained. I didn’t even notice the building, until the breakdown was imminent. Was this emotional exhaustion, from the sheer effort of holding it together, staying positive and cordial?

Like many of you who are grieving, I found myself considering the word “depression” to describe my state. Yet almost as quickly, I remembered a piece of Graham’s writing: “as opposed to depression,” he spoke of “mourning and rejuvenation.” I love this concept. It honors the truth that fully expressing and experiencing grief is essential—because only through such mourning can rejuvenation—renewal, restoration, and the return of energy and vitality—truly emerge.

I recently listened to a podcast featuring one of my favorite authors, Deborah Hanlon, with whom I had the honor of taking a workshop at Omega last year. In the conversation, Deborah likened grief to coal: solid and hard, yet when touched, messy and dirty. And yet, when we truly allow ourselves to be with our grief—whatever that looks like for each of us—it holds great power. Like coal which can move a freight train, grief, under the right conditions, becomes a transformer. With nurture, patience, honesty, and authenticity, grief has the capacity to transform us. And even when it doesn't, “faking it” can bring us just a step closer to making it.

To honor our grief, we must remember that it has many dimensions. Grief is cognitive, emotional, physical, relational, and spiritual—and each deserves our attention.

What helps you on each of these levels?

 Is it quiet reflection, journaling, or automatic writing?

Is it walking, hiking, yoga, dance, or swimming?

Is it naming your heartbreak alongside your gratitude?

Is it sharing in groups, or connecting more intimately with one or two others?

Is it meditation, prayer, or quiet moments in nature?

Sometimes, we may not know what we need until we are fully in the moment. Whatever it is that helps you honor your grief, honor your heart, and allow yourself to mourn and rejuvenate—in your own rhythm and timing—we invite you to listen deeply to yourself. Embrace all that arises, knowing that the rhythms of grief are ever-changing.

At A Sacred Journey With Grief Retreat, February 8–15, 2026, we aim to offer experiences that touch the cognitive, emotional, physical, relational, and spiritual aspects of this journey. We would be honored to walk alongside you if your heart feels called to such an experience.

Retreat Registration ends December 5, 2025!

Please reach out for your discovery call,

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Because support should never be out of reach.