Dear Santa,
I feel embarrassed writing this, because I am an adult and I know adults are supposed to cope with things better.
But Christmas comes in December, and I will be away from my family, and I will miss them terribly.
It is not that I will be completely alone. I have people around me. I have things to do. I can make plans, put lights up, watch films, buy food, and act like everything is fine.
But there is this ache underneath it all.
I will miss the noise of home. I will miss the familiar voices. I will miss the way everyone has their own little Christmas habits, even the annoying ones. I will miss walking into a room and not having to explain myself. I will miss the kettle going on without anyone asking. I will miss the decorations that have been around for years and should probably have been thrown away, but never are.
I miss the ordinary things most of all.
The silly arguments. The same stories being told again. The badly timed jokes. The food that only tastes right because someone in the family made it. The feeling of being near the people who know the older versions of me.
This year, I will not be there in the same way. Maybe I will call. Maybe I will visit later. Maybe I will try to make the best of it. But it still hurts.
I worry about Christmas, and instead of making me feel happy, it makes me feel further away from them when I think of it
I know I should be grateful. I know some people have lost family completely. I know I am lucky to have people to miss.
But I still miss them.
How do you get through Christmas when your heart feels like it is somewhere else?
From,
A homesick grown-up
Dear homesick grown-up,
First of all, there is nothing embarrassing about this.
Missing your family at Christmas is not childish. It is not dramatic. It is not weakness dressed up in fairy lights.
It is love looking for somewhere to go.
Christmas has a way of making distance feel louder. A family you can cope with missing in March can suddenly feel painfully far away in December. One song, one smell, one advert, one old decoration, one memory of someone laughing in the kitchen, and there it is: the ache.
You are right about the ordinary things. They are often what we miss most.
Not the perfect moments. Not the grand speeches. Not the carefully arranged photographs.
The kettle. The noise. The same seat someone always sits in. The person who overcooks something every year and refuses to admit it. The old decoration that looks like it survived a small natural disaster but still gets put up because it is part of the family now.
That is the stuff that becomes home.
And when you are away from it, Christmas can feel like it is happening in two places at once. There is the place where your body is, and then there is the place your heart keeps wandering back to.
So let us be gentle about this.
You do not have to pretend you are fine just because other people might have it harder. Gratitude and sadness can sit at the same table. You can be grateful to have family and still feel the pain of being away from them. One does not cancel out the other.
Love is allowed to ache.
The first thing I would say is this: do not try to erase the missing. Make room for it.
Sometimes adults think coping means pushing the feeling away. But at Christmas, feelings have a habit of finding the unlocked windows. It is better to give them a chair by the fire.
Let yourself say, “I miss them.” Not as a complaint. Not as a failure. Just as the truth.
Then, if you can, create one small bridge between where you are and where they are.
Call them while you are making a cup of tea. Ask someone to show you the tree. Send a photo of something festive from where you are. Watch the same film on the same evening. Eat one thing that reminds you of home. Play a song your family always had on. Ask for a voice note, not just a text. Sometimes hearing someone’s voice carries more warmth than a dozen perfectly typed messages.
If there is a family tradition you cannot fully join, borrow a piece of it.
You do not need to recreate the whole Christmas. Just carry one little fragment with you.
Maybe it is the same breakfast. Maybe it is the same chocolate. Maybe it is putting one familiar decoration somewhere you can see it. Maybe it is using the phrase someone in your family always says. Maybe it is phoning at the exact moment the usual chaos would begin.
Small rituals can become little lanterns.
And please do not feel you have to make this Christmas look impressive. When your heart is homesick, simple is enough. A warm drink. A soft blanket. A call. A walk under Christmas lights. A message sent honestly. A quiet moment to remember that distance does not mean disconnection.
You are still part of them.
You do not stop belonging because you are not in the room.
Families are strange things. They stretch across towns, countries, time zones, old arguments, busy schedules, missed trains, bad Wi-Fi, and years that do not go to plan. Sometimes the thread feels thin, but it is still there.
And if you cry, that is all right too.
A few tears do not ruin Christmas. They only prove that something mattered.
I know you wanted a way to get through Christmas when your heart feels like it is somewhere else. The answer, I think, is not to drag your heart back by force. It is to let it visit home, gently, and then give it somewhere warm to rest where you are.
Light one candle.
Make one call.
Keep one tradition.
Start one new one, even if it feels tiny.
And when the ache comes, do not scold yourself. Say, “This is love. This is me missing my people.”
There is sadness in that, yes.
But there is beauty too.
Because somewhere out there, the people you miss are part of your Christmas even from far away. They are in the phrases you use, the food you crave, the songs that catch you off guard, the memories that arrive without asking, and the small ways you still carry home inside you.
You are not silly for missing them.
You are not failing at being grown-up.
You are simply far from people you love at a time of year that remembers everything.
Be kind to yourself, dear one.
The deer know all about long journeys.
And sometimes, even from far away, love still finds the right address.
With warmth,
Santa
