When Christmas Feels Different: Grief, Memory, and the Power of Scent.

Christmas is often wrapped in a familiar story.

Joyful gatherings. Full tables. Traditions repeated year after year. Music, lights, laughter, and connection.

It’s the version we see everywhere this time of year, through advertisements, social media, movies, and seasonal messaging. The message is clear: this is what the season should feel like.

However for many people, Christmas feels very different.

Grief has a way of quietly changing everything.

The loss of a loved one. The absence of a familiar role. A shift in family structure. Traditions that no longer fit the life you’re living in the present. Relationships that have changed or dissolved. Sometimes it isn’t one loss…it’s many situations layered together.

When grief is present, the season can feel heavy, disorienting, or even lonely. The contrast between what’s being celebrated publicly and what’s being carried privately can be profound.

And often, what makes this time of year especially tender is our memories.

Our sense of smell is deeply connected to memory and emotion. Long before we consciously think about it, scent moves straight to the part of the brain where memory and emotion live. A familiar aroma: fresh evergreen, baking spices, citrus, a favourite candle, can instantly bring us back to another time.

A kitchen filled with laughter.

A loved one who is no longer here.

A home that once felt safe in a way that now feels distant.

During grief, our senses and especially our sense of smell, can feel heightened. Emotions are closer to the surface, and familiar scents can land more strongly than they once did. This is why it’s important to move gently with aroma during this time, allowing the body and nervous system to take the lead.

Over the years, I’m grateful for three essential oils that have supported me through grief in quiet, and grounding ways, here are just a few.

Frankincense has offered me a sense of steadiness and breath. It helps create space when emotions feel overwhelming and invites a slower, more intentional presence.

Lavender has been a soft place to land. It has supported moments of rest, especially when grief shows up as tension, restlessness, or exhaustion.

Cedarwood has helped me feel anchored. There’s something deeply comforting about its warmth, especially when everything feels uncertain or emotionally unsteady.

When using oils during grief, less is often more. Diffusing for short periods, inhaling gently from the hands, or even placing a drop on a tissue nearby can be enough.

One gentle practice during this season is learning how to stay present with what arises, without needing to push it away or force yourself into a feeling you’re not in. When scent brings up a memory, it can be an invitation to notice what’s happening in your body. To acknowledge what or who mattered, and still matters.

If traditions no longer fit, it’s okay to reshape them. If certain gatherings feel like too much, it’s okay to choose differently. Grief often asks us to listen more closely to ourselves and to honour our capacity, rather than the external expectations placed on us.

This season, may we hold compassion not only for the visible celebrations, but for the unseen stories too. For those navigating quiet losses. For those redefining connection. For those learning how to carry memory forward while staying rooted in the present.