11/27/2025
For those carrying grief into Thanksgiving—
If today feels heavy, you’re not doing it wrong.
While the table fills with noise, laughter, and passing dishes, you may be holding a quieter truth—someone missing, a chair undone, a voice that once lived here and now lives in memory. Grief has a way of arriving uninvited, settling beside the gravy and the grace.
You don’t have to be grateful for the loss to honor love. Gratitude can be softer than that. It might look like remembering their hands, their laugh, the way they showed up in the world. It might mean stepping outside for air, or letting a tear fall without apology.
This day doesn’t ask you to perform joy or rush healing. It simply asks you to be honest with your heart.
If you feel torn between thankfulness and sorrow, that tension is love stretching across time. Love doesn’t vanish because someone is gone—it changes shape, like smoke rising, like warmth that lingers after a flame.
So today, take what fits. Leave what doesn’t. Make room for remembrance. Speak their name if you want. Sit quietly if you need. Your grief belongs here, too.
You are not alone at this table.
And even in the ache, love is still present—steady, faithful, and refusing to disappear.
