When Holidays Feel Different

Labor Day weekend has always carried a bittersweet weight for me. Back when Steve and

I had our RV, it was our last camping trip of the season. Northern Idaho closes the campgrounds after Labor Day, and while we treasured those weekends away, packing up always brought a touch of sadness. We knew the open road and the smell of campfires were slipping into memory until the next summer.

Even now, as I sit at home, I can picture the long lines of cars returning from campgrounds—their back seats stuffed with coolers, fishing poles, and tired but happy kids. That sight always tugs at my heart. Families coming back from their fun-filled weekends remind me of the joy Steve and I shared, the traditions we built, and the rhythm of life that revolved around those small adventures.

But life looks different now. I don’t have the RV, the campgrounds, or Steve to share those simple but sacred routines. And so holidays often feel like a hollow space, something I have to walk through rather than celebrate. Left to my own devices, I’d likely stay home and keep busy with work. Yet I know that’s not truly honoring the spirit of these days. Holidays are meant to pause us, to remind us that life is not only about tasks—it’s about marking moments, even in quiet ways.

Grief changes the way holidays feel, but it doesn’t erase the possibility of joy. The traditions I once shared with Steve may be closed like those campgrounds at the end of summer, but I still have the power to open new doors. The celebration doesn’t need to look like it used to—it just needs to hold meaning for the life I have now.

So this year, I’m reminding myself to create new rituals. They don’t need to look like what Steve and I once had; they just need to hold meaning for the life I have now. Here are a few simple ways I’m beginning to honor holidays differently:

• Outdoors & Nature: Taking a scenic drive or even setting up a chair in the backyard with a candle can give me a taste of those camping nights.

• Food & Comfort: Making a small holiday meal—even something as simple as Steve’s favorite dish or a peach pie—turns the day into something special.

• Creativity & Reflection: Lighting a memory candle for Steve or writing one page in a holiday journal provides a space to hold both the joy and the grief.

• Connection & Community: Inviting a friend for coffee, dropping off baked goods, or even joining an online event helps me feel less alone.

• Self-Care & Renewal: Taking Tater on a “holiday adventure walk,” watching a cozy movie, or treating myself to fresh flowers reminds me that I deserve small celebrations, too.

Reflection Questions for Readers:

1. What holiday traditions do you miss the most, and how do you carry them forward in your heart?

2. How might you create new ways to honor holidays that fit the season of life you’re in now?

3. Is there a simple ritual—a walk, a meal, a quiet moment—that you can begin this year?