Grief and gratitude this Thanksgiving
The holidays feel different this year. Not just “a little off,” not just “I’m tired,” not just “wow, time flies.” Different in my bones.
Because I lost my mom in June.
And while everyone around me is talking about turkey brines and early Black Friday deals, I’m moving through the world feeling the shape of her absence in everything.
And honestly? The grief isn’t just mine. Even the dogs are acting different — clingy, watchful, unsure. They miss their grandmom. They’re healing too. We’re all a little tender this fall.
And layered on top of that personal grief? The country is a fucking mess. Every headline feels like a gut punch. Everything is loud, tense, political, uncertain. The world is shaking, and somehow we’re still expected to cheerfully line up for Black Friday like capitalism is our emotional support. Spoiler: it’s not.
So yeah — the “doorbuster deals!” emails feel like an insult to my nervous system this year.
If you want to spend your money, please, for the love of all that is holy and queer and sacred, shop small. Buy indie. Support the creators whose work keeps you alive. Independent bookstores, authors selling direct, artists, makers — the people actually pouring their hearts into the world.
Okay. Deep breath. Back to the softness.
Because even in the middle of grief and chaos and a world that feels like it’s held together by duct tape and desperate hope…
…I’m learning that it’s still possible to make space for moments of gratitude.
And one of the gentlest ways I’ve been doing that is through reading. (You saw that coming, right?)
Romance — specifically. Because romance is the genre that refuses to give up on hope. It’s the one that says, even when everything is falling apart: Love still matters. People are still tender. You are still worthy of joy.
So if your Thanksgiving table feels different this year…
If your heart is carrying more weight than it wants to admit…
If you’re grieving someone or grieving the state of absolutely everything…
Here are three books I hope you’ll read—two on my TBR and one I wrote.
The Dead Romantics by Ashley Poston, narrated by Eileen Stevens
The Seven Year Slip by Ashley Poston, narrated by Brittany Pressley
Holland, My Heart by Jennifer J. Coldwater, narrated by Cindy Harden & Brian Rivera
Yes, this one’s mine — but it belongs here. Holland begins her story in grief. Not the tidy, “I’ve processed this” kind, but the sprawling, disorienting kind where every choice feels heavy and every day feels like starting over. She’s grieving her husband, her old life, her sense of direction — and yet, she slowly, reluctantly, beautifully opens to love again. If you need a story that makes room for heartbreak and hope, this is that book.
If you’re carrying grief into Thanksgiving — you’re not doing it wrong.
Your holiday doesn’t have to be cheerful. Your gratitude doesn’t have to be loud. Your table doesn’t have to look like a commercial.
You’re allowed to feel everything. You’re allowed to rest. You’re allowed to rage at the news and cry at the sink and laugh at the dogs curled up beside you because they miss her too.
And you’re allowed to find comfort in stories that remind you you’re not alone.
If any of these books hit the spot — or if you have a grief-season favorite — tell me. Let’s hold the tenderness together.
