Grief support letters/special days/holidays/Easter Year one

“I am the resurrection and the life.

Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live,

And everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”

John 11:25-26

Dear Friend,  

Blessings to you and to your family. 

Lent and Holy Week are times for reflection and renewal—and holy remembrance. In fact, for many of us who grieve, the ‘desert-season’ of Lent most closely approximates the desert-season of our own loss. Because of this, Lent and Holy Week can be at once a comfort and a sorrow. 

Jesus’ forty days in the desert remind us of how parched we often feel without the presence of those who have ‘gone before us in the sign of faith.’ We thirst for the familiar sound of a voice, the tender touch of a hand—knowing all the while that this side of heaven, those comforts are for the most part denied us (though on occasion we might be blessed with a particularly vivid dream or the comforting feeling of a loved one’s presence).

As scenes of Jesus’ last weeks unfold in the gospel, we remember with poignancy the last days of our loved ones lives here on earth—whether we were with them in their final hours or not. The Stations of the Cross remind us vividly of the path each of us takes as we walk the road of illness and carry the weight of our grief-crosses. We watch as Mary, the mother of Jesus, meets her son during his suffering, watching helplessly, praying all the while, remembering past days of love and laughter amid current pain and suffering.

The celebration of Holy Week and, for those denominations which celebrate the liturgy of Holy Thursday, it brings a reminder of the ever-present comfort of the Eucharist. We know that even in time of suffering and death and grief, the Lord is with us intimately and tenderly, sharing with us this sign of his love, inviting us to meet him in ‘the breaking of the bread.’ 

And Good Friday? Good Friday is the one painful day the church grieves with us the loss of our Loved One. The image of Michelangelo’s Pieta, where the Jesus’s Mother cradles the body of her beloved son, is seared into our community memory, as we, too, revisit our last moments with loved ones. We wait in darkness, grieving love lost. 

Then comes Easter Sunday. The Easter message is, “He is risen!” Somehow, the austerity of Lent and the deep pain of Good Friday are assuaged with the power of that early dawn morning. The pain and the memory of that pain remain, but in its place is the beginning of hope. “We have seen the Lord!” We have seen the Lord in our lives, and in the eyes of our loved ones. And the Lord has seen us. 

One of the most comforting gospel accounts for those of us who mourn, is Luke: 28-29. As Luke tells it, a few days after Jesus’ death, two apostles were walking on the road to a village called Emmaus, talking about Jesus, his extraordinary life, their anguish over his death, and some rumors that perhaps he’d been raised from the dead. The risen Lord approached and began to walk with them. And though they did not recognize him at the time, the two apostles nevertheless felt their hearts burning with a deep and abiding love as Jesus accompanied them on the path of their grief. 

“But now they were near the village where they were staying (Emmaus),

and he acted as if he were going farther. But they pressed him: Stay with us.

It is on towards evening—the day is practically over… So, he went in to stay with them...And they recognized him in the breaking of the bread.”

The risen Lord wishes to accompany you on the path of your grief. He wants to extend to you the great tenderness of his love, the abundance of his consolation, and his wish for all of us to share in his eternal life. He wants you to know that after every dark night comes the dawn of a new day; after deepest sorrow comes abiding joy. 

Be gentle with yourself this Easter. It can be difficult to celebrate this feast and gather with family or friends without the physical presence of those who have gone before us into the kingdom of God. With that in mind, we’ve included an Easter reflection and few prayers for ‘hope amid grief.’ We’ve also included some suggestions for handling holidays such as Easter. 

Because this is one of your first few Easters without your loved one, the pain of separation will blend with what otherwise would be a joyful celebration of the Lord’s Resurrection. Be sure to prayerfully reflect on which Easter traditions feel right to continue this year—or which ones might be best to change or revisit at a different time. Some people find comfort in the continuity of holiday celebrations past while others need to change locations or activities. 

I’ll be praying for you and your family as you discern how best to include the memory of your loved one into your celebration of the Lord’s Resurrection. Try to remember your loving Father holding you in the palm of his hand, during this season, and every season. May God give you the strength to hope, to endure, and to grow through grief. May the Peace of the Risen Lord be with you today and every day.

In Christ,

Eileen  

“You have turned my mourning into dancing; 

you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, 

so that my soul may praise you and not be silent.”

Psalm 30:11

In some ways, my heart has felt like a desert. I can’t help but remember the Easter’s we spent together. What I miss the most is…

Still, I have felt my heart begin to blossom, (if only for a moment), with a memory of you, a lovely spring day, a simple prayer, or shared laughter with a friend. A few of these ‘resurrection’ times were… 

This Easter, I know you will be with our family in a special way as we celebrate the Resurrection of the Lord. We will remember you this Easter as we…

Dear Lord,

I know you will clothe me with joy again—someday. But in the meantime, even while celebrating your Resurrection, I feel the sadness of Good Friday. Help me, Lord. Comfort me with the power of your love—and with sweet memories of past Easters with my dear one. 

Thank you, Lord, for all your many graces and blessings. Help me to experience the joy of the Resurrection this year—help me to hope in you, this day and every day, so that one day I might meet my loved one again in your presence, where every tear will be wiped away. 

Amen.