Traveling With Grief During the Holidays

Finding Presence, Peace, and Permission to Feel While Away From Home

When the Holidays Feel Heavy

The holidays are meant to be a season of warmth, a time filled with family gatherings, familiar songs, and the comfort of tradition. But when you’re grieving, those same moments can feel impossibly heavy. What once brought joy can now stir an ache that sits just beneath the surface.

There’s a quiet loneliness that arrives when the rest of the world is wrapped in cheer. You might feel torn between honoring what was and surviving what is. You might scroll past photos of smiling families and twinkling lights and think, That used to be me.

I remember feeling this profoundly after my husband passed away in 2020. Before he died, we had planned to spend Christmas in Hawaii. It was meant to be a bright spot during a difficult year, but COVID canceled our plans. Instead, my daughter and I spent a quiet Christmas at home—my first one without him.

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. And despite his comical, Grinch-like attitude, he absolutely loved Christmas too. That year, the house felt too silent and too familiar, filled with reminders of traditions that no longer felt the same.

It was the last Christmas I spent at home.

Grief has a way of changing the meaning of the season. Yet, within that change, there’s also space: space to redefine, to breathe, and to gently choose what you need most this year.

For me, travel became that space. It wasn’t about escaping grief; it was about finding somewhere my heart could rest. When the holidays felt too loud, too full of memory, stepping into a new place offered quiet, a softer kind of comfort. 

Why Traveling With Grief During the Holidays Can Be Healing

Traveling with grief during the holidays can feel like an act of courage. It means you’re choosing movement when everything inside you might want to stay still. But grief doesn’t always need stillness. Sometimes it needs motion. Gentle, intentional motion.

After that first Christmas at home, I knew I needed a change. The next year, I went to Hawaii. The year after, I celebrated Christmas Eve at a family member’s wedding in Ottawa. Then came Christmas in Quebec City at Le Château Frontenac, and another spent with family in Alberta. Each place offered something I didn’t know I needed: warmth, distraction, beauty, rest, or simply a moment of peace.

Travel didn’t erase my grief, but it held it differently.

It loosened its grip.

It gave my heart a break from the reminders that were too sharp to face at home.

When you change your surroundings, you shift your perspective. The familiar reminders of loss—the empty chair at the table, the ornaments that once had meaning—aren’t gone, but they loosen their grip a bit when you’re somewhere new.

A sunrise over an unfamiliar horizon can remind you that life continues in quiet, beautiful ways. A stranger’s kindness on a train can bring unexpected comfort. Even the act of navigating new streets, learning new rhythms, can help you rediscover a sense of capability and presence in a time that often feels disorienting.

Traveling doesn’t erase grief, but it can hold it differently, giving you permission to carry it in a way that feels lighter.

”Sometimes, changing your view changes what your heart can hold.”

Choosing the Right Kind of Trip

Not every journey needs to be adventurous. When you’re grieving, the best trips are the ones that meet you where you are. The holidays already demand so much energy: emotional, social, and physical. Choosing the right trip means asking yourself: What do I need right now, stillness or change?

Some years call for reflective stillness. Others call for connection, warmth, or novelty. What I needed each year shifted, and that’s okay. One year, Hawaii’s gentle breeze felt like a lifeline. Another year, the festive energy of Quebec City was a comforting distraction.

Ask yourself honestly:

What does my heart need right now, stillness or change?

Honor whatever answer arises.

Reflective Travel

If you crave solitude and reflection, choose places that feel naturally peaceful. Think quiet coastal towns, mountain cabins, scenic drives, or cozy bed-and-breakfasts. These settings allow space to feel without pressure to perform. You might spend your mornings journaling by a window, taking long walks, or watching the sky shift colors over water. This kind of travel is less about sightseeing and more about soul-sitting.

Restorative Travel

If you feel the need for gentle connection or a change in rhythm, a restorative trip might help. This could mean joining a small group tour, spending time at a wellness retreat, or visiting a destination known for warmth and beauty—for example, the Caribbean, Italy, or a coastal town where the energy feels alive but not overwhelming. Restorative travel helps you reconnect with life’s small joys: new flavors, music, colors, and textures that remind you the world still holds beauty.

Neither choice is right or wrong. You may even find that one year calls for reflection and another for renewal. The key is honoring what your heart can manage right now.

Packing With Intention

When you’re traveling with grief, what you bring matters and not just what goes into your suitcase. Packing intentionally becomes its own form of self-care.

Here are a few items that can offer comfort and grounding while you’re away:

Emotional Keepsakes

• A small memento of your loved one: a photo, a note, or something symbolic.

• A candle or object for simple rituals: lighting it each night, saying their name, whispering gratitude.

• A playlist that balances calm and connection, with songs that soothe rather than overwhelm.

Practical Comforts

• A cozy scarf, shawl, or blanket that feels like a hug when loneliness creeps in.

• A travel journal or grief prompt notebook to help you process what arises.

• Herbal tea or familiar scents that ground you wherever you are.

”Your suitcase can carry more than clothes. It can carry care.”

Packing isn’t about what you’ll wear in photos. It’s about surrounding yourself with touchstones that remind you: you are safe, you are loved, and you are allowed to care for yourself tenderly.

Honoring Loved Ones From Afar

Grief often comes with guilt—for smiling again, for traveling, for finding moments of peace when someone you love is gone. But honoring their memory while you travel can turn that guilt into connection. You can bring them with you, even as you go.

Here are a few ideas that can help:

• Light a candle or incense wherever you’re staying. Whisper their name into the air, letting the moment be sacred in its simplicity.

• Carry a photo or token, something tangible to hold when the ache rises.• Order a meal they loved and savor it slowly and with intention.

• Write to them: a postcard you’ll never send, a journal entry that begins “I saw something today that reminded me of you…”

• Capture a symbolic moment: a sunrise, an ocean wave, a quiet street, and dedicate it to their memory.

One of the most healing parts of traveling during the holidays has been finding small ways to honor my husband while I’m away. Sometimes it’s as simple as listening to our song while toasting his memory. Other times it’s ordering a dessert we used to share.  These gestures turn grief into connection.

”Love doesn’t stay at home. It travels with you.”

Honoring loved ones in small ways allows grief to feel companioned rather than suppressed. It transforms absence into presence, a quiet acknowledgment that love doesn’t end where life does.

Wherever you go, your love goes too.

There is no distance grief can’t travel.

Redefining Holiday Traditions

One of the hardest parts of grieving through the holidays is realizing how traditions change. What once felt comforting may now feel hollow. But that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your ability to celebrate. It means you have the chance to redefine what celebration means.

You don’t have to put up a tree, attend every gathering, or send out cards. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. Grief asks you to honor what’s true, not what’s expected.

Maybe you spend Christmas morning watching the sunrise from a beach instead of sitting around a tree. Maybe you choose to volunteer at a shelter or animal rescue instead of cooking a big dinner. Maybe you skip the festivities altogether and book a quiet weekend away with a book and a journal.

Traditions are meant to evolve with us. The beauty of travel is that it naturally opens space for new rituals to form. You can create traditions that reflect both your loss and your growth, perhaps returning to a meaningful place each year, lighting a candle in a new country, or keeping a “grief travel journal” of where your heart has been and what it’s learning along the way.

“Traditions can evolve, and so can you.”

After losing my husband, I found that I could no longer go through the motions of a traditional Christmas at home. But I still love the holiday season: decorating, baking, festive outings, all the magic leading up to December 25th. I simply needed Christmas Day itself to look different.

So I created new traditions.

Hawaii’s warmth.

Ottawa’s celebration.

Quebec City’s snowy beauty.

Edmonton’s family comfort.

And this year, I’m returning to Hawaii again.

These new traditions allow me to hold the season gently, not forcefully. They honor my past while creating space for who I am now.

Coping Tips for Traveling With Grief

Even with the best intentions, grief doesn’t always respect itineraries. You might find yourself fine one moment and overcome the next. That’s okay. Travel, like grief, is unpredictable, but it also invites grace.

Here are a few ways to care for yourself on the road:

1. Plan Softly

Don’t overschedule. Leave room in your days for rest or spontaneity. Sometimes, the most healing part of a trip is an unplanned walk, a nap, or simply sitting quietly in a café watching the world move.

2. Stay Connected

Even if you’re traveling solo, you don’t have to be alone. A call or message  to someone who loves you  can steady your heart.

3. Ground Yourself Daily

Simple rituals can help you feel anchored:

• Deep breaths while noticing five things around you.

• Morning journaling with a gratitude or reflection prompt.

• Evening check-ins: “What did I feel today? What did I need?”

4. Let the Emotions Come

Tears, longing, nostalgia: let them rise. Grief doesn’t obey calendars, and that’s okay.

5. Practice Gentle Self-Talk

Replace “I should be enjoying this” with “It’s okay to feel what I feel.” Replace “I shouldn’t be here without them” with “They’d want me to keep living.”

Compassionate language reshapes the narrative from guilt to grace.

The Balance Between Solitude and Connection

Traveling while grieving means learning when to embrace solitude and when to welcome connection. Some days, you’ll crave quiet moments: journaling, wandering, breathing in unfamiliar air. Other days, you might long for warmth: a shared meal, a friendly conversation, a smile from a stranger.

Allow both. Healing doesn’t happen in isolation or noise alone; it happens in the ebb and flow between them.

Redefining “Home” When You’re Away

One of grief’s lessons is that “home” changes. When the person or life that grounded you is gone, familiar spaces can feel unfamiliar.

But travel teaches something surprising: home is not only a place.

It’s a feeling.

It’s safety, presence, breath, connection.

A sunrise over a beach in Hawaii can feel like home.

A cozy café in Quebec City can feel like home.

A quiet moment with yourself can feel like home.

When you travel through grief, you begin to discover that home is wherever you allow yourself to be fully present, even if just for a moment.

Finding Light in Motion

I never expected holiday travel to become part of my healing, but it has. Each trip has revealed something new: a moment of peace, a spark of joy, a reminder that healing isn’t linear, but it is happening.

Traveling with grief during the holidays doesn’t mean you’ve moved on. It means you’re moving with your grief, giving it room to shift into a gentler shape.

I still miss what was.

But I’m learning to embrace what is.

And with every place I visit, I find a new piece of myself returning.

“Even far from home, even in a season of sorrow, you are allowed to find joy again, not instead of grief, but alongside it.”

Final Thoughts

If you’re reading this and the holidays feel too heavy, know this: you are not alone. It’s okay to skip traditions, change your plans, and redefine what the season means to you. Whether you choose to stay home, take a quiet drive, or cross oceans, let your journey be guided by what brings peace, not pressure.

Grief and travel share something sacred: both remind us that we are still moving, still breathing, still becoming.

Wherever you go this season, may you carry love gently, and may the road ahead remind you that even in loss, life continues to offer you light.

Grieve. Go. Grow.

If this time of year feels overwhelming, these Holiday Grief Journal Prompts offer a soft place to land. Use them at home or while traveling to help you make space for whatever comes up.