Gentle promises for anyone missing someone this December

This December marks ten years since I said my final goodbye to my Dad, Ian.
And as this anniversary approached, I found myself thinking deeply about grief, how it moves, how it reshapes us, and how it stays with us in ways both painful and quietly beautiful.

What I’ve learned over the past decade is this:
grief does not fade, but it does change.
It becomes something we learn to live with, something we grow around, something that becomes woven into who we are.

And so, for anyone moving through a tender December, whether this is your first festive season without someone or your twentieth, I wanted to share a few gentle promises. These are the truths I’ve learned in these ten years without my Dad, and I hope they offer comfort if you’re carrying your own loss too.

The waves won't always feel this strong

In the early months and years, grief feels like it sits at the centre of everything. Every routine, every quiet moment, every celebration feels slightly off-balance.

But with time, the space between the waves begins to grow. You will still feel the ache, but it won’t knock the breath out of you forever.

That is my first promise: the waves become gentler. Not because you loved them any less, but because you learn to breathe again.

You won't always wake with grief as your first thought

In the beginning, it feels like loss greets you before the world does. But one day, sunlight will reach you first. Your first thought will be something ordinary, a plan, a task, a moment of ease.

And when grief arrives later in the day, it won’t feel like a failure. It will simply be part of the rhythm of living with love that has nowhere to go.

You will say their name again, with softness instead of pain

There may be a time when their name feels too sharp to speak. But that changes too.

One day, you will talk about them with warmth. You will tell stories without breaking open. You will feel the love rise first, not the sorrow.

Grief softens enough to allow joy back in.

Birthdays. Anniversaries. Holidays. The moments they should be here for.

I’ve learned that you don’t lose someone once,  you lose them in moments, again and again, in every future they won’t be part of.

But you also grow stronger around those moments. More able to carry them with you. More willing to let others support you.

The love you shared will continue to shape you

I will spend more of my life without my Dad than with him. And yet, I feel him in everything. In how I love, how I lead, how I show up for others.

That’s one of the quiet gifts of grief, the love that remains becomes the way you move through the world.

You don’t carry them beside you anymore, you carry them within you.

Be gentle with yourself this December

For many, this month is a season of light and celebration. For others, it’s a time when grief feels louder, sharper, more present.

Wherever you fall, your experience is valid. There is no right way to grieve. No timeline, no expectation, no “should have moved on by now.”

If this December feels heavy, please hear this, you are not doing it wrong. You are doing your best.

Wherever you are in your grief, especially this December, I hope you find moments of peace, softness, and connection.

With warmth,
Amy Pettigrew.