15 • Rainbow Celebrations

There’s no right way or perfect timing to honor your love, only your way, in your time. What matters most is that you make space to remember, to feel, and to celebrate the love that still lives between you.

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Christmas Was Heavy—Until I Included Mum

From my mid-twenties to my mid-thirties, I was single, living in Los Angeles, an ocean away from my family in Australia. So I got used to spending Christmas without them. Some years were sweet, celebrating with friends. But often, I’d find myself crying alone in my room at the ashram, surrounded by people, yet feeling deeply alone. Not because I was unhappy. I loved my life. But Christmas always brought up one ache: I missed Mum the most at Christmas.

She made Christmas magical. We didn’t have a lot growing up, but she found a way to make Christmas feel rich and full. She would sew us beautiful Christmas stockings by hand and stash away gifts all year long so we’d have a pile to open. We always started Christmas Day the same way: a fruit mince pie and a glass of milk. My brother and I would excitedly check if Santa’s mince pie had been eaten, and if the reindeer had drunk their water and nibbled their carrots.

So when I finally met the love of my life, the man I knew I’d marry, I had high hopes for our first Christmas together. And by high hopes, I mean high. I imagined we’d merge our traditions, create new ones, and bask in romantic, cozy, magical perfection.

Eric really did try. He showed up with love and presence. But somehow, nothing felt quite right. Nothing filled the quiet ache I didn’t even realize was there. There wasn’t any big drama, but I felt… off. Christmas Eve came and went. Christmas Day too. And I just felt unloved. I kept it together, smiled, tried to be fine, until the day after Christmas, when I broke.

I completely snapped at Eric. Accused him of not loving me enough, not helping enough, not appreciating me. I unleashed a storm that wasn’t fair. But that’s how trauma works, it’s rarely about what’s happening in the moment. It’s old pain, triggered. After the explosion, I collapsed and sobbed. The truth finally came forward: I missed my mum.

Even though my outburst was messy, once I stopped blaming and let myself share vulnerably, really owning my sadness, something shifted. When I could speak from that raw truth instead of blame and anger, Eric could finally hear me. He stopped defending himself and started holding.

I’d been trying to build a perfect holiday on top of an old, sacred wound. It wasn’t his fault. Nothing he could have done would have filled the emptiness I felt. But being seen and loved in that pain changed a lot. Of course it was easy for him to have compassion and kindness once he understood how much I missed my mum and how tough Christmas had always been for me. Being that real and that vulnerable cleared so much, within me, and between us. Only then could he see what I was truly needing: not a fix, not a solution, just understanding and love. And that moment… it really was magical. Like a Disney ending, only real.

Here’s the thing I’ve learned, both personally and professionally: most relationships don’t deepen because we never let ourselves break down, be real, or fall apart in front of each other. We bottle things up, shut down, and end up arguing about the wrong thing entirely. But breakdowns, when met with honesty and compassion, become doorways to deeper love.

If you can, share your grief with your partner and your loved ones. Let them see your heart. This is how love grows roots. It’s how we heal. And it’s how relationships become vessels for healing and magic.

And none of us is perfect. Sometimes our pain spills onto the people we love. We blame. We rage. We fight. That’s human. But the more we take ownership of our pain and share it vulnerably, the easier it becomes to truly listen, to ourselves and to each other. From that space, compassion naturally grows. And that compassion, that willingness to love through the mess, becomes both a healing gift and the fertile ground for a relationship that not only feels nourishing and real, but also becomes a living vehicle for our growth and highest potential.

Now, every Christmas, Eric buys me a dark chocolate orange. It’s what my brother and I used to give Mum every year. He wraps it and places it under the tree for me. And yes, I told him to do that. I ask for what I need. (The first year, he bought it but didn’t wrap it. It was sweet, but it reminded me, people can’t read our minds. It’s okay to ask for exactly what supports you.) Every year, I cry when I unwrap it. Every year, I talk about Mum. Sometimes I share a story. Sometimes I just let the tears fall. But always, it’s love. It’s remembrance. It’s connection. Now, Christmas includes her, not just in memory, but in the way I let myself feel.

Celebrations and Anniversaries – Honoring Our Love Through the Years

Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, and special events can be some of the most beautiful, and brutal, parts of grievealing. Beautiful, because they give us a reason to celebrate the love we shared. Brutal, because they remind us of what’s missing.

Whether it’s their birthday, your first Christmas without them, the anniversary of the day you brought them home, or the day they crossed the Rainbow Bridge, grief often shows up on these days like an uninvited guest.

Our bodies hold memory. And just like birds know when to migrate or flowers know when to bloom, your nervous system also knows what time of year it is, even when your mind forgets. It’s happened to me more times than I can count. I’ll move through a day feeling off, tired, heavy, out of sorts, only to realize later… Oh. It’s my mum’s rainbowversary. My heart remembered, even if my mind didn’t.

But if you’ve made it this far in the book, you’ve probably noticed something important: avoiding the pain doesn’t help. And when we find the courage to embrace it, something unexpected happens, Love, joy, and reconnection begin to emerge, right there in the very place of the yearning and the missing.

So including your Rainbow One in the moments that mean the most to you can do more than ease the ache. With a little intention and imagination, it can deepen your love and strengthen your connection. It means your grief doesn’t have to crash your favorite days in the worst possible ways. Those special days can actually become sacred. Not because the pain is gone…but because you’ve found the love and connection that’s always been riding shotgun.

Take time to add the important dates to your calendar, birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. Not because you have to dread them, but because you deserve to prepare for them, so you can enjoy them. When you mark these dates with love and intention, you give yourself the chance to meet them with tenderness instead of surprise. To welcome them as sacred and joyful, rather than fear them as painful or punishing.

The Big One: Their Memorial

For many of us, the most meaningful celebration we’ll ever plan for our animal is the one we never wanted to: their memorial. You might call it a celebration of life, a funeral, a goodbye gathering, a puppy party, a rainbow crossing, or maybe you don’t call it anything at all. That part doesn’t matter. What matters most is this: you get to choose what feels right. There is no one way to honor a life. There is only your way.

Over the years, I’ve had the honor of supporting many people through their Rainbow One’s memorial, and I’ve witnessed the most beautiful, creative, heartfelt ways to celebrate. I’ve seen trees planted in the gardens they loved, surrounded by both dog and human friends. I’ve seen candles lit, one by one, with guests sharing tender memories as they speak their name into the space. I’ve watched ashes scattered into the ocean or along a beloved trail. I’ve even seen puppy playdates hosted in their memory, joyful reunions where the dogs run free while the humans laugh, cry, and remember.

But what’s surprised me most is this: many people don’t hold a memorial at all. And that might be exactly what’s right for you. And whenever a client feels unsure, I always offer this simple question: Are you choosing from fear, or from truth and Love? Because the voice of fear can be loud. It can whisper, People won’t understand. It can scream, They’ll think I’m too much. And for many, the fear of judgment or rejection is enough to stop them from honoring what their heart truly wants.

Remember, it’s real, there’s a depth of love that’s hard to explain to those who don’t share the same kind of connection with animals, and even harder to grieveal because of that. That’s why the idea of a memorial can feel overwhelming. And why, for some, it simply takes time, more time than expected, to be ready. Ready to say goodbye. Ready to share it. Ready to do something ceremonial at all.

It could take a month. It could take a year. It could take ten. If you’re still holding on to their ashes, or haven’t felt ready to plan anything, that’s okay. Your timing is sacred. You’ll know when it’s right.

And when that moment does come, I want to gently offer something you might not have thought of: invite your Rainbow One to help you plan it. Let them guide you. I know it might sound wild, but you might be surprised by how clearly their essence responds when you ask.

Where should we scatter your ashes?

Should this be a big gathering or just the two of us?

What music, rituals, or words would feel like you?

What could I do in your honor that would make you smile?

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Let it be co-created. And be bold enough to share that truth. Tell people you planned it together. Yes, a few might think you’re a little crazy, and that’s okay. Because others will completely understand. And your courage might just give someone else permission to connect more deeply with their own Rainbow One.

So however you choose to honor them, go gently. Go honestly. Go with love. You don’t need to rush. You don’t need to explain. Just trust your process. Trust your Rainbow One. And trust the love that’s guiding you both.

Plan Ahead: Simple Ways to Honor Them

For all the important days in your life, consider ways of including your Rainbow One. Some will feel obvious. And others less so. And trust which holidays or celebrations don’t need to have your Rainbow One included. You don’t have to do anything elaborate. Just something intentional. A small ritual. A moment of connection. A way to honor the love you shared.

Grief gets harder when we feel disconnected. When we worry their memory is fading. A simple ritual helps you bring them close again. It gives your love a direction, a voice, a space. Remember grief is really just love. You only grieve because you love. And so if you want your love to keep growing through the years, and to transform your grief from pain back to love, really showing up to honor and celebrate holidays and milestones can be so powerful.

Seasonal and National Holidays

This list of holidays might inspire you to choose a few to work into the traditions of your life. Allow those ones that easily and effortlessly spark joy and whimsy. Don’t choose out of obligation. And get creative!

What can be surprisingly powerful is how the joy of planning a holiday, something as simple as displaying their photo, picking out a small gift, or lighting a candle, can help you reconnect more deeply with your Rainbow One. When you choose to include them with intention, the grief softens. You’re not just mourning their absence; you’re inviting their presence. And that can turn even the hardest holiday into a sacred and loving one. No, it won’t take away the missing or erase the pain, but it can help in transforming your grief back into the pure love that it’s always been.

New Year’s Day (January 1st • Global Holiday)

A time for fresh starts and reflection. Include your Rainbow One by lighting a candle or writing them a letter about the year ahead. Let their love inspire your intentions and walk with you into what’s next.

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Lunar New Year / Chinese New Year (January–February • East Asian cultures)

This celebration of renewal and family is a beautiful time to honor your Rainbow One. Set up a small altar, offer fruit or flowers, and invite their spirit to bless your home and the year to come.

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Valentine’s Day (February 14th • Global/Western)

A day focused on love and connection can feel tender after loss. A simple Valentine’s card to or from your Rainbow One can be deeply healing. Love doesn’t end, it just changes form.

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Nowruz (March 20–21 • Persian/Iranian New Year)

A spring celebration of renewal and light. Place a photo of your Rainbow One on your Haft-Seen table or write a wish for how their love can guide you in this new season.

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Passover (March–April • Jewish)

A time of storytelling and liberation. You can honor your Rainbow One by sharing a memory, placing something of theirs near the Seder plate, or simply holding them in your heart during reflection.

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Easter (March–April • Christian)

Easter blends grief with rebirth. You might honor your Rainbow One with a flower in their favorite garden spot or a memory shared during brunch. Let the season remind you: love continues to bloom.

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Mother’s Day (May • Many countries)

If your Rainbow Ones were your only children, this day can be powerful. Ask for a gift from them, or receive a letter through your pen. You are, and always will be, their Mum, Mom or Mama.

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Father’s Day (June/September • Many countries)

A tender day for Rainbow papas. In our home, I wrap a gift for Eric from Fenix and Ellie. A simple ritual to honor their bond and the love that still surrounds us.

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