Choosing Joy After Loss: A New Perspective on Grief

Grief has a way of taking hold of your life and making you question everything you thought you knew about love, faith, and purpose. It can feel like an anchor—keeping you tied to a version of yourself that existed before loss. After losing my son, Drew, I didn’t know if I would ever feel joy again. The world kept spinning, but mine stood still.

At first, even the idea of happiness felt impossible. Joy seemed like something that belonged to someone else, to another lifetime. But over time, and with a lot of grace, I discovered something powerful: joy and grief can coexist. You can hold sorrow in one hand and gratitude in the other. You can honor your loss while still choosing to live fully, with intention and purpose.

And that’s what I want to explore with you today—what it really means to choose joy after loss.

The Complexity of Grief

Grief isn’t a single emotion; it’s a storm. It comes in waves—sometimes crashing over you with such force that you can hardly breathe, and other times receding into a quiet ache. There’s no road map for it, no perfect timeline, and certainly no “right” way to grieve.

The holidays, in particular, can stir up those waves in unexpected ways. While the world feels full of light and celebration, you might find yourself feeling the ache of absence even more deeply. The memories, the traditions, the empty chair at the table—they all remind you of what once was.

But what I’ve learned is this: even in those moments of deep sorrow, there are small ways to invite light back in. It starts with a single choice—a choice to notice beauty, to be present, to allow a sliver of joy to enter your heart, even if it feels foreign at first.

Writing Through the Pain

One of the most powerful tools I used in processing my grief was journaling. After Drew passed, I wrote him a letter every day for a year. It was my way of staying connected, of talking to him when the silence felt unbearable.

In those letters, I told him stories about my day, the people I met, the things that made me think of him. I also let myself dream—I imagined him in Neverland, with Peter Pan, soaring through the clouds with that same fearless joy he had here on earth.

This practice didn’t take away the pain, but it transformed it. It gave my grief a voice. It gave me permission to keep loving him, to keep our connection alive in a new way. Over time, those letters became less about what I had lost and more about what I could still carry forward—the love, the laughter, and the lessons he left behind.

Small Steps Toward Joy

When you’re in the depths of grief, the idea of joy can feel almost offensive. It’s as if smiling or laughing might dishonor your loved one. But I’ve learned that joy doesn’t erase grief—it honors it.

In the beginning, I allowed myself just 15 minutes of joy a day. That might not sound like much, but at that time, it was everything. I would spend those minutes doing something that sparked even a flicker of happiness—painting, sitting quietly in nature, listening to a song that lifted my spirit.

Those 15 minutes became a sacred ritual, a space where I could remember who I was beyond the pain. Eventually, those moments grew longer. And so did my capacity for joy.

Today, when I think about Drew, I don’t just feel the ache of his absence—I feel love, gratitude, and even peace. I see his spirit in the small, everyday miracles around me: a hummingbird at the window, a child’s laughter, the warmth of the sun. Each of these moments reminds me that he is still here, just in a different way.

Creating a New Normal

Grief doesn’t mean forgetting the person you lost—it means learning how to live differently because of them. It’s about creating a new normal, one that allows you to carry their memory while still making space for your own healing.

For me, that new normal became a mission: to help others on their healing journey. Through The Melissa Hull Show, my writing, and the Greater Than Grief Movement, I’ve found a way to turn pain into purpose. Every time I share Drew’s story, it’s a reminder that healing is not about returning to who you were—it’s about becoming who you were meant to be.

The holidays can amplify both the love and the loss, but they also give us an opportunity to remember with intention. You might light a candle in your loved one’s honor, share a favorite story about them, or start a new tradition that carries their spirit forward. Whatever you choose, let it remind you that your love didn’t end—it just changed form.

A Heartfelt Invitation

If you’re walking through grief right now, I want to encourage you to take one small step toward joy today. It doesn’t have to be grand. Go for a walk and notice the colors of the sky. Write a letter to your loved one. Listen to a song that stirs your heart. Do one thing that reminds you there is still beauty here for you to experience.

And when the holidays come, allow yourself to feel it all—the sadness, the love, the memories, and the gratitude. You don’t have to choose between grief and joy. You can carry both, and in doing so, you’ll discover a strength and peace you didn’t know you had.

Until we meet again, my friends—
Be gentle with yourself. Be present. And when you’re ready, choose joy.