Many of us probably just celebrated Halloween and are now settling into the upcoming holiday stretch. As we start to think more about shopping for gifts and what we want to put on our own lists, there’s also an opportunity to look at the origins of Halloween and consider a different way to approach the upcoming holiday season.
Samhain (pronounced sow-in) is a pagan holiday of Celtic origin. In Celtic traditions, transitions were seen as holy or closer to the realm of the spirits. Transition or “in between” spaces included both physical locations like shores, crossroads, bridges, and boundaries but also transition times such as dawn or twilight or the shifting of seasons.
Samhain is the celebration of the transition from harvest to leaner times, from greater times of light to greater times of darkness. It was believed that this was the best time to commune with loved ones who had died and a time to be cautious of evil spirits (this is what led into many Halloween traditions).
Today, those who celebrate Samhain observe it as a time of gratitude and remembrance. It is a time to remember those we love who have passed away and to give thanks for the bounty of the year. It is a celebration of both grief and gratitude.
Balancing those two things feels especially fitting this year. Many of us are going through our own leaner season. Tensions and divisions are high, paychecks don’t go as far, and there’s a lot of uncertainty. It can be hard to feel festive when so much is heavy. But maybe the answer isn’t to push the hard stuff aside for a few weeks. Instead, maybe we make room for both.
Holding both grief and gratitude at the same time means we don’t have to dismiss the dark to see the light or ignore the beauty to acknowledge the pain. Both can be true and both can be acknowledged and given space. So what might this look like?
The grief: Missing loved ones who have died, especially if the loss is recent. Sometimes holidays can make an empty chair feel even emptier.
The gratitude: Make room for their memory. Tell your favorite stories about them, make their recipe, or write them a letter about what they meant to you. Your missing them this much is the evidence of how much they mattered to you.
The grief: The people you love are far away, and you won’t be together this year. That distance can feel lonely.
The gratitude: They’re still in your life. You can call, send a text, or have a video chat to share a meal. Let yourself miss them, and then reach out.
The grief: Money is tight, and gifts will be smaller. It’s normal to feel disappointed or even a little ashamed about that (not that you should feel ashamed, just that you might).
The gratitude: Lean into the traditions that cost nothing, like driving around to see the lights, having a movie night, or making a special recipe that you only get out this time of year. We rarely remember the gifts as well as we remember the rituals.
The grief: Family tension or political divides can make gatherings that used to feel easy now—if they happen at all—feel like walking on eggshells. It’s painful to feel far from people you love even when you’re in the same room.
The gratitude: Notice the relationships that have held up through disagreement. Look for the people you can fully be yourself with, and spend more time with them this season.
The grief: A relationship is going through a rough patch. The expectation that everyone should be happy and closer to one another during the holidays can make this harder.
The gratitude: You’re both still showing up and trying. Small moments count more than you might think. So, pay attention to the little opportunities of repair, like an apology, a softer tone, or a hand on the shoulder.
The grief: Work feels uncertain, or a job was lost. That can shake your sense of security and even who you are.
The gratitude: Take stock of the skills you’ve built and the ways you’ve adapted before. Notice who checked in on you. Those relationships matter more than any job.
The grief: Health problems, or a body that’s changing. You might miss what used to come easily, or how your younger body functioned.
The gratitude: Give some credit to what your body still does for you every day, even the small things: a walk around the block, a good night’s sleep, a hug.
The grief: Kids are growing up or moving out. The house is quieter, and the old routines are fading.
The gratitude: They’re launching, and that’s what you raised them to do. The relationship isn’t ending, it’s changing. Enjoy who they’re becoming and cheer them on.
As the days get dark a little earlier, I hope you’ll give yourself permission to feel both. You don’t have to be cheerful all season, and you don’t have to let the hard things take over. Samhain honored the in-between, and many of us are living in that space right now. What would it look like to make room for both your grief and your gratitude this year? Maybe it’s lighting a candle for someone you miss, calling an old friend, or just noticing one good thing at the end of a long day. Small acts of celebration are enough.
