When November Breaks Your Heart: Holding Grief and Gratitude at the Same Time

Some seasons arrive quietly and undo us.

This November has been one of those months for me.

At the beginning of the month, I lost a long-term friend unexpectedly.

My 93-year-old mom, who has been slowly disappearing into Alzheimer’s for four years, entered hospice and is now nearing the end of her life. My dad – her husband of 71 years – sits by her side as she slips further away.

And as life would have it, my husband is also grieving a significant loss in his own family. It’s been one of those months when grief doesn’t arrive one at a time – it comes in waves, from all directions.

I find myself somewhere between grief and relief, depending on the hour of the day.

It’s a strange thing to hold so many contradictory feelings in one body. But this month, I’m learning that sometimes the only way through a season like this is to stop trying to choose one emotion over another… and simply let them all live together.

The Things We Never Expect to Carry at the Same Time

Grief rarely comes one piece at a time.

It has a way of arriving as a cluster – layered, tangled, overwhelming.

One moment, I’m laughing with my husband about something small and silly, and the next I’m crying because the sound of my dad’s voice on the phone shattered me completely. I’m grateful my mom is being cared for. I’m devastated she’s leaving. I’m relieved her suffering may soon be over. I’m heartbroken that this is how Alzheimer’s steals someone you love.

It’s emotional whiplash, and I’ve stopped trying to make it neat.

If you’re navigating a heavy November too, please know this:

You’re not doing it wrong. Life is just asking a lot of your heart.

The Gift of a Final Goodbye (Even When You’re Not Sure It’s Heard)

Recently, my family gathered on a video call with my mom.

We shared memories, told her how much we loved her, and said goodbye – whether she understood the words or not.

My dad was beside her.

It was tender and excruciating at the same time.

Watching a 71-year marriage reach its final chapter is a kind of heartbreak that doesn’t have language. There’s grief for my mom, yes… but also grief for my dad, for the life they built, for the roles they won’t get to play anymore.

And in the middle of all that, strangely, there’s gratitude – that they had a love that lasted that long, that deep.

Letting Grief Take Up Space – Without Letting It Take Everything

If you’re grieving this month – whether from loss, anticipation of loss, or the weight of someone else’s pain – here are a few things helping me stay upright that might help you, too:

1. I’m Letting Myself Feel Whatever Shows Up

Not judging it. Not forcing it to make sense.

Some days grief is loud. Some days it’s quiet. Some days it’s mixed with laughter.

2. I’m Finding Small Moments of Humor On Purpose

Not because it fixes anything… but because it gives my nervous system a break.

3. I’m Keeping Things Simple

Fewer expectations. Softer plans.

More space to breathe.

4. I’m Letting People In

A text, a hug, a walk, a messy conversation.

Connection is medicine.

5. I’m Practicing Gratitude in the Smallest Possible Doses

A warm blanket.

A kind message.

A shared memory.

A moment of calm.

That’s enough.

Why Gratitude and Grief Can Coexist

I used to think gratitude meant “stay positive.”

Now I think gratitude means “notice the good without pretending the hard isn’t happening.”

Grief doesn’t cancel gratitude.

And gratitude doesn’t cancel grief.

They sit side by side, like two hands resting in your lap – one heavy, one light.

This month, gratitude has shown up in unexpected ways:

• in the strength of my dad’s love;
• in the peacefulness of my mom’s hospice care;
• in small moments of connection with my husband;
• in the tenderness of friends who check in;
• in the reminder that life is fragile, and so are we.

You don’t have to feel grateful for the pain.

You only have to be grateful within it, when it’s possible.

Letting This Season Change You – Gently

Here’s what I’m learning:

Grief has a way of sanding us down to what matters.

It makes us softer in some places and stronger in others.

It sharpens our priorities.

It reminds us how deeply we love.

It wakes us up to the moments we still have with the people who are here.

November has broken my heart… and it has also shown me just how many people I love, how much life I’ve lived, and how tender this season can be.

A Question for You:

If you’ve had heavy months, let me ask: What small thing is helping you get through the day right now? Your answer might be exactly what another woman needs to hear.