Day 1: Acknowledging the Empty Chair

Introduction: Grief During the Holidays

The holidays are supposed to be a season of joy, celebration, and togetherness. Everywhere you look, there are twinkling lights, cheerful music, and images of happy families gathered around tables filled with abundance. But for many of us, this season amplifies what—or who—is missing.

When everyone around you seems wrapped in celebration, grief can feel even heavier. The empty chair at the table. The traditions that feel impossible to continue. The missed opportunities with someone who’s no longer here. The dreams that didn’t come to pass. And sometimes, the hardest part is feeling like you’re the only one carrying this weight while the world moves on in joy around you.

If that’s where you are today, I see you. Your grief is valid. And you don’t have to pretend to be okay.

The Empty Seat

There was a time when I thought to myself: If I stay busy, if I don’t think about it, I don’t have to feel it.

What is “it,” you might ask? It can be anything.

Grief doesn’t just come from losing a loved one or a failed relationship. Grief can attach itself to jobs we’ve lost, dreams we’ve had to release, faith we once held in someone, or even the version of ourselves we thought we’d be by now. It looks different for all of us because different things hold different meanings in our lives.

And here’s what I’ve learned: It’s not for others to tell you what your grief should look like or whether what you feel is “silly” or “meaningless.” Your grief is yours, and it matters.

The first step in healing is acknowledging the empty seat in front of you—whatever that may be.

I used to hold onto so much, afraid to be a burden to others when my emotions got the best of me. So I tried to just keep going, not acknowledging the feelings stirring inside me. If I don’t deal with them, they’re not real, right? Besides, who has time to sit and process grief while navigating a busy life? So I threw myself into more—more work, more distractions, more busyness.

But loss after loss, disappointment after disappointment—it piles up. And one day, it just hits you. Life will force you to deal with what you’ve been avoiding.

But we don’t have to be afraid of what’s on the other side.

God, Our Comforter

In our darkest moments, when grief feels overwhelming and the empty chair looms large, we have a promise:

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18

God doesn’t minimize our pain or rush us through it. He draws near. He sees the empty chair. He knows the weight of what we carry. And He offers Himself as our ultimate comforter.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
— Matthew 5:4

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.”
— Psalm 46:1

In sad times, He is not distant. He is a present help. He is the One who can give us peace that doesn’t make sense in the midst of pain—not by taking away the grief, but by walking through it with us.

You don’t have to carry this alone.

It’s Okay to Feel

Acknowledging the empty seat doesn’t mean it has to have a hold on you forever. But it does mean giving yourself permission to feel.

It’s okay to be emotional. It’s okay to be sad, disappointed, fearful of the future. It’s okay to grieve during a season when everyone else seems happy. Your feelings are not a burden—they are part of being human, part of being wonderfully made.

Grief is not weakness. It’s love with nowhere to go. And acknowledging it is the first step toward healing.

Reflection Prompt

Take a few moments today to sit with this question:

What is the “empty chair” in my life right now? What am I grieving—whether it’s a person, a dream, a season, or a part of myself?

Write it down. Say it out loud. Acknowledge it before God, who already knows and already cares.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to be honest about what’s there.

A Prayer for Today

Heavenly Father,

Today I come before You with an empty chair—a space where something or someone used to be. I don’t have to pretend with You. You see my grief, and You don’t turn away.

Thank You for being close to the brokenhearted. Thank You for being my refuge and my ever-present help. I don’t have to carry this alone.

Help me to acknowledge what I’ve been avoiding. Give me the courage to feel what I need to feel, knowing that You are with me in it. Bring Your comfort, Your peace, and Your healing in Your perfect time.

I trust that on the other side of this grief, there is hope. Not because the pain disappears, but because You are faithful.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

💕 You are not alone. You are seen. You are held.

This is part of our 5-day series on grief during the holidays. View all posts in the series → https://wonderfullyher.com/category/5-days-on-grief/