Wish You Were Here: Finding Hope Through the Holidays

The holidays are supposed to be about joy---family gatherings, warm lights, laughter, and cheer. That’s what everyone says, right? But for many of us, the season brings something else: silence, emptiness, and memories of what or who we’ve lost.

And loss isn’t always about death. It can be the end of a relationship, a job you thought you’d have forever, or the ache of a pet running away. Sometimes it’s realizing that life doesn’t look the way you dreamed it would. For me, it’s the absence of my dad. Last year, I lost him to suicide. His last words to me---“See you on the Dark Side of the Moon"---feel like a riddle I’m still trying to solve.

At first, I avoided everything that reminded me of him. The music we shared, especially Pink Floyd, became off-limits. It was too painful, like a door to a room I couldn’t step into without breaking. But here’s what I’ve come to realize: avoiding the hard stuff doesn’t help us heal. If anything, it makes the weight heavier. Yesterday the Pink Floyd song Wish You Were Here came on the radio---and I listened. Slowly, I’ve been letting myself lean into it, piece by piece, song by song, because pain isn’t just a reminder of what’s gone. It’s a reminder of what mattered.

Feel It to Heal It

Listening to that song by Pink Floyd made me think about all of those out there who are suffering during the holidays. It prompted me to write this article in hopes of helping others---and helping myself. For a long time, I thought strength meant pushing through, burying the hurt. But ignoring grief, sadness, or anger doesn’t make it disappear. It just grows louder, waiting for a quieter moment to come roaring back. What’s actually hard, and what’s healing, is giving yourself permission to feel what you feel.

The holidays don’t need to be all smiles and forced cheer. It’s okay to sit with the sadness. It’s okay to miss someone or something you’ve lost. I’ve found that naming my emotions out loud helps take the edge off. “I feel sad today.” “I feel overwhelmed right now.” It’s not magic, but it’s a step toward letting those feelings move through you instead of consuming you.

When I was struggling at first, my good friend David Roth taught me about journaling. I never imagined journaling would change my life, but it has. There’s something about getting thoughts out of your head and onto paper that feels like a release. Sometimes it’s messy, and that’s okay. You don’t have to write beautifully or make sense of it all. Just let the words spill out.

Some days I write to my dad: things I wish I could say, memories I’m scared of forgetting, even the anger I feel about losing him or about some of the things he said and did. Other days, it’s just a brain dump of how I’m feeling, what I’m grateful for, or what’s weighing me down. Journaling has become a safe space, one where I can be honest with myself and untangle the knots in my head.

If you’ve never tried it, start small. Five minutes, no expectations. The goal isn’t to fix anything; it’s just to show up for yourself. Oh, and by the way, if you don't feel like writing, just talk it into your phone. I do that as well by dumping all my thoughts and feelings into one of my note apps.

The Lesson in Loss

The hard truth is that every major accomplishment in my life---every moment I’m proud of---has been born out of pain, frustration, anxiety, or loss. Sometimes all of them at once. It doesn’t feel like it at the time, but those difficult moments carve out the space for something new to grow.

I’m not saying everything happens for a reason. I don’t believe loss is given to us as a test or a lesson. But I do believe we can find meaning in the aftermath. When I look back at the darkest times in my life, I see how they shaped me, taught me resilience, and revealed strengths I didn’t know I had.

If you’re hurting right now, ask yourself: What might this experience be teaching me? You don’t need an answer today or even tomorrow. But reflecting on how pain changes us can bring clarity and, eventually, growth. Loss doesn’t mean forgetting. Whether it’s a person, a pet, or a dream that’s slipped away, you can carry its memory forward. For me, that’s been about reintroducing Pink Floyd into my life, even when it stings. It’s hard, but it’s also healing.

Find a way to honor what you’ve lost. Light a candle. Write a letter. Share a story with someone who understands. Those small rituals aren’t about living in the past but rather staying connected to the parts of yourself that still love, still remember, and still care. When life feels overwhelming, focus on the smallest step forward. It doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. Some days, “progress” means getting out of bed or going for a short walk. Other days, it’s texting a friend or cleaning one corner of your room. Small wins matter because they build momentum.

This year, I’ve found comfort in routine---simple, intentional actions that keep me grounded. One day at a time, one step at a time. That’s how we move forward, even when we’re carrying something heavy.

True Victory is Victory Over Oneself

I’ve had a number of losses over the last few years. They’ve knocked me down hard. They still do some days. But I’ve come to realize that life isn’t about fighting against yourself---it’s about finding the courage to accept what is. That’s the real victory. Sometimes, strength means letting go of what we can’t change and making space for something new.

I see life through the eyes of a fighter---not in the sense of fists and fury, but as someone who believes the hardest battles are fought in the quiet places of our hearts. The kind of fight where getting back up doesn’t mean forcing your way forward, but simply standing tall, breathing deep, and saying, I’m still here.

Loss tests us, no doubt. It strips us bare, breaks us open, and leaves us searching. But what I’ve learned is this: it doesn’t just take---it reveals. It reveals who we are beneath the pain. It shows us our heart, our resilience, and the strength we never knew we had.

If you’re carrying loss this holiday season, whether it’s the absence of someone you loved, a dream that’s faded, or a life you didn’t expect, I hope you can find a moment of peace in what I’m about to share. I wrote this poem for anyone who’s been knocked down. To remind you that loss doesn’t mean you’re broken---it means you’re human. And even in the hardest moments, there is still hope waiting to rise.

A Fighter’s Heart

Loss comes quietly or with a roar, a door that shuts, a shifting floor. It drops us low, it shakes our ground, Leaves us searching for what’s profound.

The fight begins where words don’t land, a silent war, unseen, unplanned. It’s not the fall, the hit, the sting, But what we choose to bring and bring.

Some days we stand, some days we crawl, Through shattered dreams or a painful call. A heart that breaks, yet beats the same. Still searching for light, a spark, a flame.

The fighter’s heart is not unscarred, It’s stitched with hope where life is hard. Each reader finds their meaning here---In grief, in loss, in love, in fear.

For the fight within is deeply ours, Shaped by shadows, sparked by stars. And though the path feels torn apart, What rises strong is a fighter’s heart.

About the Author

Specializing in human performance, coaching, and organizational leadership, Dr. Paul "Paulie" Gavoni is a behavior scientist and educator who has worked across education and human services for almost three decades. In this capacity, he has served the needs of children and adults through various positions, including COO, Vice President, Director of School Improvement, Leadership Director, Professor, Assistant Principal, School Turnaround Manager, Clinical Coordinator, Therapist, District Behavior Analyst, and Director of Progam Development and Public Relations at PCMA. Dr. Gavoni is passionate about applying Organizational Behavior Management (OBM), or the science of human behavior, to make a positive difference in establishing safe, productive, and engaging environments that bring out the best in faculty and staff so they can bring out the best in the learners they serve. He is an active board member of the Opioid Awareness Foundation and World Behavior Analysis Day Alliance.

Known for his authenticity and practical approaches, Dr. Gavoni is the host of the Top 1.5% globally ranked Crisis in Education Podcast and a sought-out speaker at various Educational and Behavior Analytic Conferences Internationally. He a the Wall Street Journal and USA Today best-selling co-author of The Scientific Laws of Life & Leadership: Behavioral Karma; Quick Wins! Accelerating School Transformation through Science, Engagement, and Leadership; Deliberate Coaching: A Toolbox for Accelerating Teacher Performance; and MMA Science: A Training, Coaching, and Belt Ranking Guide. Dr. Gavoni is proud to introduce OBM and Applied Behavior Analysis to worldwide audiences through his numerous publications and his work with PCMA to create productive, safe, and positive cultures.

Beyond his work in education and human services, Dr. Gavoni is also a former Golden Gloves Heavyweight Champion and a highly respected striking coach in combat sports. Coach “Paulie Gloves,” as he is known in the Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) community, has trained world champions and UFC vets using technologies rooted in the behavioral sciences. Coach Paulie has been featured in the books Beast: Blood, Struggle, and Dreams a the Heart of Mixed Martial Arts, A Fighter’s Way, and the featured article Ring to Cage: How four former boxers help mold MMA’s finest. He is also an author who has written extensively for various online magazines such as Scifighting, Last Word on Sports, and Bloody Elbow, where his Fight Science series continues to bring behavioral science to MMA. Finally, Paulie was also a featured fighter in FX’s highest-rated show at the time, The Toughman, and as an MMA coach in the Lifetime reality series Leave it to Geege.

Disclaimer: All ideas presented are original to the author. ChatGPT has been used solely to enhance the reading experience.